La Posada
by Librarian7
Summary: What happens when a freshie gets overdrawn? Well, if she's lucky, she gets sent off somewhere to build up her blood. And since she's Lucky, that's exactly what Josef does...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Josef frowned down at the piece of paper in his hand. It was slowly crumpling in the pressure of his grip. He didn't need to stare at it; he already knew what it said, but he also didn't wish to meet Lucky's distressed gaze. Nonetheless, it had to be done.

"Damn, Lucky, this is bad news," he said, feelingly. "And we both know what it means."

He could see her mouth tremble as she nodded, unable to trust her voice.

"Come sit down with me," Josef said, guiding her to the sofa with a hand at the small of her back. She was shaking, and this time not with desire. He turned from her to sit in his accustomed place, looking up at her as he sat from under raised eyebrows. He held out a hand, and when she took it, pulled her gently down into his lap, curled against his chest.

"You're going to send me away, aren't you?"

"I think you know I have to. If you stay here—the temptation is too great."

"Please, Josef—" She slid down to lie in his lap, knees pulled up in a defensive response. He dropped a hand to stroke her red hair.

"Lucky," he said softly, "it's not the end of the world."

"Not for you," she breathed. Her pain was palpable to him, and the feel of her head lying on his thigh was beginning to make him distinctly uncomfortable. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to slip his hands under her shoulders, and raise her up to where he could bend his head to that milk-white neck. He knew, and it was not without a certain irony, that to do so would ease her pain, quiet her fears. Just the opposite of what most believed of the vampire's bite.

Josef blinked, his thoughts coming back to focus on the issue at hand. Gratifying as it might be, that the freshie would react so, her distress seemed a little extreme. Then the light dawned.

"Shit," he said. "Lucky, sit up and look at me."

She complied, her large gray eyes brimming with tears. "Yes, Josef," she said.

"You didn't think I meant, 'Send you away forever,' did you, doll?"

She nodded. "Severe anemia, the doctor said. I—I can't feed you anymore."

"Remind me to fire that doctor. Better yet, remind me to have him—look, babe, there's nothing wrong with you. If you're anemic, it's my fault. We both know that."

"Y-yes."

"So all I want is for you to go away for awhile. Not forever."

She searched his face, and he could hear the hope spurring her heart. "Truly?"

His laugh was a low rumble in his broad chest, and somehow the sound reassured Lucky more than any words would have done. "Sweetheart, let me share a little something with you. Over the centuries I've learned a few things—most vamps do—and one of those is that freshies come and go. It's not hard to find blood donors. But—and this is the important part—freshies who are about more than the bite, or the money, are an infinitely precious resource." He paused thoughtfully. "Plus, we tend to get conservative. Hate change and all that. So any reasonable vamp will go to considerable lengths to hang onto a good freshie as long as possible. Whatever it takes to keep them feeding the monsters."

Lucky was regaining her composure, slowly. "I think you sell yourself short, Josef," she said, and reached up to caress his smooth cheek. "You're very—forgive me for saying it, but—lovable."

"You see only what I want you to see," he replied. "Most of me is not—lovable." He caught her slender hand in his and pressed her fingertips to his lips. Lucky thought it was like the touch of cool silk. "But I appreciate that you would say so. More than you realize." He gave her a falsely fierce glare. "Just don't go saying it to anyone else. I do have a reputation to maintain."

"Hey," she said, "I call 'em like I see 'em."

"And you wonder why I want to take care of my special girls?" He kissed her lightly on the lips, and she saw the hint of heat steal into his brown eyes, but he pulled back and turned businesslike. "Now, there are arrangements to be made, and you, doll, should be getting some rest. You'll be traveling tomorrow." Josef turned to pick up his phone, but stopped at her voice.

"Josef?" she asked. "Can I beg one favor before I go?"

He looked at her with a slight questioning jerk of his head, a half-smile on his lips. "What is it, Lucky?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed nervously. "I know you can't feed from me, but before we part, will you take—just a taste? I need—I need to see my blood on your lips once more before I go." She met his eyes steadily. "Please."

Josef smiled tightly and shook his head a little. "You are a constant test," he said, "of my control, Lucky." He paused, considering. "But how can I refuse you?"

He came and stood behind her, one strong arm around her waist as she raised her wrist for him. With her back against his chest, he could feel her heart begin to race as he drew in the scent of her skin. He bit down, the razor-sharp points of his fangs sliding so sweetly through her skin that she felt almost no pain. Josef lapped gently and briefly at the blood flowing for him, then kissed the wounds and turned her to face him, so that she could see the bright stain at his mouth. "This was not the last time for us, Lucky. I swear it on your blood." Then he touched his lips to hers once more. "Now go."

She smiled at him, reassured, but as she left, she heard him on the phone, speaking to one of the other freshies. "My study, babe. Half an hour."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lucky looked around at the room that was going to be her home for at least the next month, desperately wanting to be able to find fault with something. Anything. Unfortunately, the room—suite, really—was perfect. Charming. The flowing organic lines of the adobe architecture were complemented by the bold colors of the handwoven Navajo bedspread and wall hangings. The sitting area was furnished in rustic Santa Fe style, couch and easy chairs crafted from aspen logs facing the adobe fireplace and the bright blue-framed French doors leading to her private terrace.

The large bathroom was decorated with bright Mexican tile, fanciful patterns in blue and yellow and green, but if the decorations were old-fashioned, the fixtures were modern, obviously quite recently updated. The shower featured multiple heads, and the separate tub was a luxuriously large Jacuzzi.

Even the view from the windows and terrace was spectacular, the nearby ghostly aspen giving way to blue Spruce, Douglas fir, and Ponderosa pine on the mountain slopes sweeping up to a brilliant azure sky.

Lucky sighed a little, think she could hang up the few clothes she'd brought in the spacious closet later. For right now, she wanted to sit down in one of the easy chairs, stare off into space and be quietly miserable. Well, at least from what she'd been told, that was expected here. She couldn't help going over the past few hours, the blur of her journey.

She'd followed Josef's instructions, and packed only for a few days. His email had specified that she should use her credit cards to cover any deficiencies in her wardrobe or any other needs. "Though if I know you, doll," he'd written, "the biggest part of the bill will be from Amazon."

The private jet had left her and her scant luggage at a small airport outside, she later learned, Durango Colorado, where she'd been immediately, and deferentially, shown to a small lounge discreetly labeled "La Posada," and invited to partake of refreshments while they waited for the arrival of one more guest.

The lounge already had one occupant, a very handsome young man with an altogether enviable mane of golden hair, and who threw her a sultry look before introducing himself as "Sam." He had a very fresh set of dainty fang wounds on the wrist of the hand he extended to her, and Lucky found herself unconsciously turning her inner wrist so that her own marks were visible.

When the third guest arrived, a beautiful brunette who pointedly ignored the other two freshies, the lounge attendant ushered all of them to a waiting Land Rover. The brunette flounced ahead, claiming the front passenger seat, while Lucky and Sam followed.

"Diva," Sam murmured to Lucky, with an eye roll at the brunette's back. "She must think her vamp is really hot stuff."

Lucky smiled, but made no reply as she climbed into the vehicle. Every second was taking her deeper into unknown territory, and she wasn't sure how she would endure this for a month or more. Being in the middle of a pile of freshie politics and maneuvering for position, without the benefit of any vamps around to be amused by it, was depressing. As the Land Rover rolled over smooth roads through the small city and beyond, into the mountains, she tried to steady herself with deep breaths. Trust, she told herself. It was all about trust. She had to trust Josef to do what was best for her—for them. And that shouldn't be so hard for her. After all, Josef had trusted her repeatedly, with his secrets, with his sustenance. He had said, he trusted her with keeping him in contact with humanity. And although she knew she was only one of many feeding him, he always made it seem like she was special. Probably he did that for them all. It seemed to be a talent he'd acquired over the centuries.

The mountains were increasingly imposing, and Lucky tried to concentrate on the scenery, but it was hard, as though every mile intensified the physical ache of separation from her vampire. She wondered if the other two freshies were feeling the same way. Both of them seemed pale, abstracted. Even Sam's jaunty grin had faded, and his face looked strained. She caught him glancing down at his wrist, fingering the wounds there. Lost in thought, she barely noticed when the Land Rover slowed and turned into an unmarked gate almost hidden in the woods.

The road grew steeper, rougher, winding back on itself as it climbed until they emerged into a high, open valley flanked by forest. At one end, next to a stony-bedded stream that meandered through the valley, a complex of adobe buildings sprawled, looking so natural in the setting that it almost seemed as though they had sprung from the earth without human interference.

When they rolled to a stop before the main gate, Lucky saw three figures awaiting them, two women and a man, all middle-aged and dressed in casual Southwestern style, the man in jeans and a western shirt, the women in flowing skirts and tunics belted at the hip with showy conchos.

The driver and the other man handed out Lucky and the brunette, treating them like spun glass, Lucky thought.

One of the women, an attractive ash blonde in her late forties, stepped forward slightly. "Welcome," she said formally, "welcome to La Posada de la Sangre del Noche." Smiling warmly at Lucky, even as the other woman approached the brunette, and the man held out a hand to Sam, she said, "Please come inside, Ms. Alexander. You must be exhausted from your journey."

Lucky nodded, and as she began to walk up the steps, to her embarrassment, she stumbled slightly. Instantly, the woman was by her side, slipping an arm around her waist to steady the freshie. Lucky flinched away.

"I—I don't like to be touched by strangers," she stammered. "I'm all right."

The woman nodded, but stayed in place. "Of course you are. It's probably the altitude." She paused. "Humor me, and let me assist you. Your patron would be very unhappy if I allowed you to injure yourself on the front steps of the posada."

At that, Lucky drew herself up. She would not disgrace herself—or, more importantly, Josef—with this display of weakness. Still, she allowed herself to be led forward into the cool shadows of the lobby of the posada, then into a small sunny office and seated in an easy chair.

The woman paused to pick up a phone on her desk. "Yes," she said, "I could use—" and she glanced at Lucky, "—a pot of hot tea, and some of the beef broth." Setting down the receiver, she turned her attention back to Lucky. "Now then," she continued, "I'm afraid I've been remiss in not introducing myself, Ms. Alexander. My name is Marla, and I'll be your personal hostess while you''re here."

"It's Lucky," she replied. "Please call me Lucky."

Marla frowned slightly. "If that's your preference, of course, although we find that a little more formality can be beneficial, especially at first."

She shook her head. "Josef calls me Lucky. That's good enough." Her voice shook a little more than she'd thought it would, and she twisted her hands together in her lap.

Marla came around her desk and knelt fluidly in front of Lucky, laying her hand on the young woman's arm. Her eyes were filled with warm sympathy, had Lucky noticed,. "Believe me," she said, "I do understand what you're feeling. I remember the first time I came here. I felt absolutely bereft. But my patron sent me here to rest and recover, just as yours has."

Lucky shot her a sharp look as the words sank in. "You mean you—?"

Marla nodded. "Of course. Who better to staff a retreat for freshies than retired ones?"

That statement was enough to pull Lucky out of her self-absorbed misery at least for a little while. "I'd think it would be too painful," she said. "The memories…"

"It's hard, sometimes." There was a hint of gentle melancholy in her tone, and Lucky did notice that.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not like this usually. I'm just so tired, and—and—" she trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Marla patted her arm again. She seemed about to speak when there was a quiet knock at the door, and instead, she rose to admit a uniformed waitress bearing a tray. In short order Lucky found a large mug of savory, rich beef broth steaming in her hand, and a cup of strong, milky tea on the side table next to her.

"All right," Marla smiled, "now that we've got you settled, I need to explain a few things about the Posada."

"I think I have some questions already."

"Mr. Kostan warned us that you were the inquisitive type." She paused. "He was adamant that the arrangements for you were just so. You have to understand," she continued, "that all our guests here are highly prized by their patrons. This place is a little too expensive to send casual freshies. So everyone here is valued."

Lucky smiled to herself, knowing that whatever it cost was likely chump change to Josef. Not that she ever talked finance with him. She sipped at her broth.

"And you are a guest here," Marla went on. "We try to keep the rules and routines to a minimum. For example, you may wish to have some meals delivered to your room, or you may join the others in the dining room. We do request that you make an effort to eat regularly, and if you can bring yourself to follow the dietician's recommendations, that would be lovely."

"Let me guess, you have my medical records already."

"Of course."

"Thought so. Look, I don't intend to be difficult. Josef wants me to get well."

"That's the spirit, dear," Marla said. "One thing, however. We much prefer for our guests to refer to their patrons either as, well, 'my patron,' or respectfully as, say, 'Mr. Kostan.' Now I realize that you and Mr. Kostan seem to be unusually close—"

"He's like that with all of us," Lucky interrupted. "Josef—Mr. Kostan—treats all his freshies very well. There are no favorites."

"Yes, well, I'm sure that's the case. I was only leading up to the fact that not all of the vampires are so casual about their names being used in public, and we strive to honor their wishes. You understand—it's long been a tradition here."

Lucky narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "How long has this place been in operation?"

Marla smiled. "1931. Mr. Kostan was one of the original investors, you know. He had the vision to understand that the establishments in the eastern part of country were not going to be convenient for the West-coast based vampires."

"There are other places like this?"

"Oh, yes. The one near Saratoga Springs is well over 150 years old. Of course, some of the European retreats date back far longer." She smiled knowingly. "As I understand it, not every convent and monastery on the Continent is necessarily a religious establishment."

Lucky actually smiled back at that. "Think what an historian could do with all that." Noting the sudden shadow on Marla's face, she added quickly, "I'm not an historian. Do you think I'd ever do anything to put Jo—Mr. Kostan—at risk of exposure?"

Marla stared at her intently for several seconds before replying. "No. No, I don't suppose you would. Your patron is very fortunate in you, Lucky." She shook her head, as though to remove fanciful thoughts. "Broth all gone? Good. Start on the chai, please. We have more mundane matters to discuss."

Lucky obediently set aside her empty mug of broth, which she barely remembered drinking, and picked up the hot milky tea. She could taste an unfamiliar mix of spices in it, not unpleasant, but definitely exotic. It was very relaxing, somehow, and she wondered what the spices masked. Then again, they'd hardly drug her. The taste of chemicals showed up so plainly in the blood, Josef always maintained. He'd avoid a freshie for days, just for taking a couple of aspirin.

"Now then," Marla was saying when Lucky forced her attention back to the present. "Please give me your cell phone."

"But I need it," Lucky protested. "Mr. Kostan promised to call me."

"Yes, and I'm sure he will," Marla replied. "On this." She held out a phone with no keypad. "He already has the number."

Lucky reluctantly traded her iphone for the odd-looking instrument, frowning. "So we're not allowed to call our—patrons? That seems harsh."

Marla shrugged. "It was their idea. Too many weepy calls from lovelorn freshies. This way, you have something to look forward to."

"What about internet? E-mail? IM?"

"There is a terminal in your room. You can use it for typing, games, that sort of thing anytime. And it will connect to the web two hours every day. I believe most of our guests like to have their emails written and ready to send in advance."

"I'm sure. But Josef told me I could email him anytime."

"Possibly he doesn't know the current policy. It's been, oh, twenty-three years since we last had a guest under his patronage."

Lucky smiled wanly, and sipped her tea. She wasn't sure whether that would have been due to a lack of concern on his part, or a lack of necessity. "As I said, he takes very good care of us. And exercises great self-control."

"So it would seem," was the dry response.

"This all—it seems like some over-elaborate fantasy. Are you sure it isn't all a dream?"

Marla laughed. "Quite sure, Lucky. But I think it is time to show you your room. You'll want to rest and freshen up before dinner." Then she smiled impishly, and Lucky began to find her quite likeable. "I believe you'll be pleased,"

And of course she had been. Even the closet was huge, with enough room for her entire wardrobe, had she brought it. As it was, it would take all of two minutes to unpack. Hang a few clothes, put a little lingerie in the chest of drawers, arrange her toiletries artistically on the bathroom counter. Then she'd be right back to staring out the window, feeling alone.

She was just wondering about picking up the house phone—another instrument with no keypad, only 4 buttons (hostess, room service, housekeeping, and emergency)—and asking Marla if this oh-so-luxurious prison had a library, when it rang.

"Ms. Alexander?" Marla said. "Lucky? There are some deliveries for you, if it wouldn't disturb you."

"Not at all."

"We'll be right there, then."

The deliveries turned out to be three packages, one quite small, and a large bouquet of irises. Marla herself carried the flowers, frowning judiciously as she decided where best to place them in the main part of the room. Finally, she set the vase down on the low hearth, stepping back to regard them.

"Your patron has excellent taste," she said. "Nine out of ten would have sent blood-red roses. Nothing wrong with roses, but it is rather predictable." She gave some small signal, and the staff member carrying the other packages set them down on the table and disappeated. Marla looked at Lucky, expectantly. "Are you going to open your packages?" she asked.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer privacy," Lucky replied. "Since these are all rather obviously from my patron, I hardly think it likely they'd contain any dangerous contraband. Do you?"

Marla's expression remained calm and friendly, no doubt, Lucky thought, the result of years of dealing with sulky, homesick freshies. "No, of course not," she said. "But perhaps you'll allow me to assist you with the packing tape?"

She pulled a small penknife from her skirt pocket, slicing expertly down the seams of the boxes. "Enjoy your surprises." She turned to go, then swung back. "I almost forgot—there's an envelope, too." She produced a squarish cream envelope, again from a capacious pocket, and handed it to Lucky.

Once alone, the freshie was unsure where to start. She wanted to savor everything, holding close to any connection, however tenuous, to her vampire.

First she went to the flowers, looking for a card. When she located it, she held it for a moment before opening it. There was no signature, and the message was only two words. "Never forgotten."

Next she turned to the box from . As she suspected, it held a dozen books from her wishlist, and she smiled at Josef's thoughtfulness. He knew all too well that she'd be craving reading material second only to his presence.

The biggest box contained half a dozen satin nighties, in the jewel tones she loved. Emerald, sapphire, topaz, amethyst, garnet, and aquamarine. She longed to slip one on immediately, but decided to wait until later in the evening.

The last box, the small one, held a flat red velvet jewel case, and before she opened it, she decided she'd better look at his letter.

The heavy paper crinkled in her hands as she pulled it out of the envelope. She felt comforted at the sight of his strong, sloppy handwriting. He rarely wrote by hand, preferring to type, and she had to take this as a sign of special consideration. Besides, just deciphering one of his notes, she thought, could profitably pass a good amount of time.

_Lucky—_

_Hope this finds you settling in, doll. I hear it's a nice place, and if anything doesn't suit you, let me know._

_I thought you'd need a few books to tide you over until you could get more in. _

_And about the nighties, babe, just because you're in the mountains doesn't mean you get to sleep in flannel. If you get cold, throw another blanket on the bed. When I think about you at three o'clock in the morning, I want to know that you're in satin. The way you should be._

_That other item—if you haven't opened it yet, open it now, Lucky._

She set aside the letter, and opened the flat jewel case, stroking the red velvet as she did so. And caught her breath at the sight. It was a long gold chain she suspected was less delicate than it first appeared, interrupted every three inches or so by a small, heart-shaped ruby, and she unconsciously touched the similar one that hung at her throat. But this seemed far too long for a necklace. She looked again at the note, turning over the page.

_This one is between you and me, Luck. I wish I could be there to hang it around your sleek hips myself, but as I'm not, you'll have to take the thought for the deed. I expect no one else to see this. If you decide to wear something that won't hide it, either take it off or change your outfit. Understand? And when you feel it against your skin, know that it means you belong to me, and we both know it._

_The Casa seems a little emptier without you._

_Josef_

Lucky took the jewel box into the bathroom, and shed her clothing, tossing it into an untidy heap in the corner. Then, standing before the full length mirror, she fastened the slender chain around her hips, and stood looking at her reflection, rubies at her throat and hips twinkling in the artificial light.

They were almost as bright as the diamond sparkle of the tears running down her pale cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As little as it appealed to her in her current mood, Lucky supposed she should go to the dining room and make some effort to eat. Besides, she did need to see how the other freshies dressed. She'd never been much of a clothes horse, and Josef had occasionally chided her for continuing to dress like an impoverished graduate student, but she could tell that as long as she abided by the freshie custom of dressing to leave wrists and throat readily accessible, he was not actually displeased. In a way, she gathered he rather liked it—he had no need to impress anyone by how well he dressed his freshies. In fact, she imagined it was a sort of reverse ostentation, a display that he chose freshies for other attributes.

She had to consult a map to find the dining hall, and after a moment's hesitation, folded the piece of paper and shoved it in her pocket, along with the strange new cell phone. She told herself firmly that it was unreasonable to expect Josef to take time from his busy schedule to make soothing noises at an absent freshie, but there was no way she was taking a chance on missing it, if he did. She could feel the gold and ruby chain pressing against her skin beneath her clothes, reminding her of his regard. The feel of it would have to suffice, for now.

On her way out of the room, she picked up a book. No sense in looking completely distraught, she thought.

The dining room was, Lucky found herself unsurprised to discover, more like a nice restaurant than a dining hall, with numerous small tables scattered around a room dominated by a huge open fireplace and massive roof beams. Each table sported fresh flowers and a candle lantern, although the light from several wagon wheel chandeliers was more than sufficient illumination. She wasn't sure if she was early or late for dinner, as there were maybe twenty other diners already seated, most sitting alone, most looking a little lost and lonely. She clutched her book, glad she'd brought a diversion. Dress, from what she could see, ranged from t-shirts to designer labels. No familiar faces…wait, no, the dark girl Sam had called the "diva" was sitting haughtily at a table, evidently awaiting the arrival of her dinner.

As Lucky paused at the entrance way of the dining room, a maitre d' appeared, smiling and obsequious, a darkly handsome forty-something. "Ah," he said, "you must be our newest guest, Ms. Alexander. Forgive me, I forgot, you prefer Ms. Lucky, yes? Allow me to show you to your table. We thought since you are unused to the mountain chill, a place close to the fireside would be welcome this evening." As he spoke, he was rapidly flipping through a stack of menus, selecting one even as he began to guide her in the direction of the hearth.

Seated, she discovered her menu was personalized, and touted a variety of offerings, but when she attempted to order only a salad, the server tsked and disappeared, to be replaced almost instantly by Marla.

"Now, Lucky, you told me you weren't going to be difficult. Let's order you a good meal, and you eat what seems right to you, all right?"

"Really, I'm not that hungry. Salad would be plenty."

"Well, suppose you give the chef a little bit of a chance to show off, your first night. I always like the gazpacho, and then you can have your small salad—the house dressing is spectacular, and the fresh rainbow trout with steamed veggies."

Lucky frowned, but acquiesced. "Are you trying to fatten me up?" she asked, partly in jest.

"Well, you know," Marla answered, seriously, "most of the patrons formed their ideas of beauty long before the current fad for extreme thinness. So, while we aren't exactly wanting to fatten you up, we do aim for healthy weight." Marla smiled. "I'm not going to hang over you and make you clean your plate, by the way. But do try to eat, Lucky."

Lucky nodded. "You're right, I'm sure. I'll try."

Marla's smile seemed genuine. "I knew you were going to be one of the sweet ones," she said. "So what's that you're reading?"

"Umm, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro," Lucky admitted, slightly embarrassed.

"Ah," Marla said. "Vampires." She paused. "You know, Lucky—" and at this point she was interrupted by one of the waitstaff, who touched her lightly on the shoulder, and whispered something in her ear. She smiled apologetically. "Sorry, duty calls…I do have several guests at the moment," she said, and rising, made her way to another table across the dining room.

Burying her nose in her book, Lucky tried to concentrate on falling into another world, hoping she'd be able to distract herself enough to eat. Not that the food, when it arrived, wasn't delicious. Still, only a few bites sufficed to satisfy her.

The scraping of a chair caused her to snap her head up. Sam had turned a chair around so he could straddle it and rest his forearms on the back. He gave her a disarming grin. "So your patron must have some serious pull around here—Lucky. Everyone else gets the "Ms. Smith, Mr. Logan" treatment. Makes me feel like a misbehaving schoolboy."

"Isn't that what you are?"

Sam laughed and tossed his head, swinging his hair. "Ouch," he said. "You want to know what I found out about our fellow traveler? The diva?"

"Not especially." Lucky closed her book. "You're one of those guys who always knows everything about everyone, aren't you?"

He smiled and tilted his head to one side. "Well, I do try."

"And you want to find out all about me, next," Lucky said.

"With every word, you wound me," Sam replied, pitifully. "I'm just a nice friendly freshie, alone in a strange place. Like you."

Lucky inclined her head, acknowledging the truth of his statement, but had to smile. "Okay, okay…what's the scoop on the diva?"

"She's pretty well-connected. Hereditary freshie, and her vamp is top of the food chain in Miami. Carmencita Diaz. She's not here for her health, exactly. Her vamp is having some problems, turf war stuff, it sounds like, and decided to stash her out of the line of fire."

Lucky frowned. "Hereditary freshie?"

Sam nodded. "Her great-great-etc. grandmother signed a contract for all her descendants. Not very common, but it happens." He crooked a smile. "So Carmencita thinks she's a princess. On the other hand, I hear there's some freshie here who belongs to the richest vamp in L.A., probably the richest vamp in the country. Don't know who that is, though."

"Let me know when you find out," Lucky said, suppressing an urge to break out in a smirk worthy of her vampire.

"Will do," Sam said. "So, how did your intake interview go?"

Lucky grimaced. "About equal parts cosseting and laying out restrictions. I'm not sure whether to feel over-protected or just imprisoned."

"No kidding," Sam replied. "We're just little birds in a very nicely gilded cage. But I got a long lecture about not hitting on other freshies." He looked faintly disgusted. "Like I don't know everyone here is under an exclusive contract. Like I'm not, myself. Makes me wonder what my, uh, my patron told them about me."

Lucky grimaced. "They do seem to know altogether too much about us, don't they?"

"Looks that way."

She considered asking him where he was from, as a natural "getting acquainted" sort of question, but decided it might be rude. Besides, once she started that conversation, there was no way he would fail to ask where she was from, and that would lead inevitably to Josef's name. Meanwhile, Sam had turned the conversation in other directions, and chattered on. It was actually soothing to listen to his commentary, and he quite evidently didn't expect much response. It made her think this was normal for him, that he was used to entertaining his vamp the same way. She found herself wondering if she resembled his vampire, or if she'd just been a quasi-familiar face. And she was surprised to discover that most of her dinner had disappeared while he talked on.

After dinner, she refused his offer of a stroll around the grounds, claiming with considerable reason that she was too lightly dressed for the mountain evening chill. So they parted with a generic "Nice meeting you," and went separately to their rooms.

Lucky took a long soak in the Jacuzzi tub with a book for company, and the new cell phone in easy reach. She told herself firmly not to expect a call, and sure enough, none came.

Later, her skin and hair properly cared for, she donned the amethyst nightie and settled herself in bed, trying to concentrate on her novel even as her thoughts kept drifting to Josef. Eventually she dozed, the book falling closed from her hand, the bedside light left shining on her face.

The shrill ringing of the phone startled her, even as her heart leapt up. She took a deep breath before answering, so she wouldn't sound sleepy. "Josef."

"Tell me I woke you, doll."

"Umm. A bit. I must've dozed."

"You're meant to be resting." His tone was stern, and the very sound of it heartened her.

"You know me. Reading is resting. But I was hoping you'd call. I wanted to thank you."

"Ah. You received something?"

"The flowers, the books, the nightgowns, and….and that rather unique piece of jewelry? Not to mention the accommodations generally? Yes."

"And?"

"And I put an extra blanket on. The amethyst satin is very nice, though. And—" she paused, unsure of exactly what to say. Josef waited, and Lucky thought she could almost see his expression, watchful and focused. "—and I don't know what to say about the chain, Josef. Except that I—I'm wearing it."

Josef snorted. "Any other girl I know, Luck—including you on a good day—would've found something teasing and suggestive to say. Feeling shy?"

Lucky ran a hand down her side, found the chain as a faint line under her nightie. "I'm sorry, Josef. I guess I need to try harder to be amusing. But—it meant so much. Especially coming today."

Josef was quiet for a long time. So long, in fact, that Lucky began to wonder if he were displeased somehow. But when he spoke, what he said was unexpected. "I know what it is to be lonely, sweetheart."

Lucky smiled, suddenly relaxed and sleepy, and snuggled down among her pillows and blankets, holding the phone like lifeline. "Josef, I can only think of two things to say. One of them is—thank you."

"And the other?"

"Is best left unsaid."

Somewhere in the night, to the west of where she lay, there was no one to see his reaction, no one to know what he thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lucky always wondered at how quickly a routine could fall into place. The days at the Posada were calm, yet not boring, not exactly. More unpressured and serene, with no responsibilities, no one to please except herself. Activities were provided, but not stressed. And the paths were smoothed, usually.

Her first morning, she slept late, calling for breakfast to be delivered to her room. Marla called almost before she'd hung up from the order.

"Good morning, Lucky, dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, very."

"Good, good. Listen, after you've had time to eat and go through your morning routine, perhaps we could meet? I didn't have a chance to show you around the complex yesterday, and I'm sure you have questions."

Lucky thought later that the "tour" accomplished several goals. Light exercise, orientation, and a chance for the newly-arrived freshie to bond with her hostess. Perhaps most importantly, the descriptions of how the Posada was secured served both to reassure nervous freshies that they could be safe away from the protective oversight of their vamps, and also to warn them that running away would be difficult to impossible. Lucky had been fairly correct in characterizing the place as a well-upholstered prison, she realized. For a moment, she was surprised to think that Josef would send her to such a place, then decided it was not such a stretch. He was thinking of the protection, not the confinement.

On the other hand, she learned that getting into town wasn't too difficult. Field trips were frequent, and special outings could be arranged. The list of classes and events that Marla provided was daunting. Everything from movies to star-gazing to exercise classes.

"Needle-point?" Lucky asked, with a very dubious look at Marla.

Marla nodded in understanding. "I know. But some of the patrons—they love it when a girl sits demurely waiting on them with a bit of lady-like busywork in hand."

"Most of the vamps I've known would prefer pole-dancing."

"Ah, well, LA is a different group, from what I've heard. And check page two of the list."

"This is all fascinating, but what I really need to know is what time I can get on the web. I have an email to send…and I've got to order some clothes. Can you tell me the shipping address to use?"

Marla frowned thoughtfully. "Of course. Should we take a run into Durango this afternoon? We could do some shopping, get you fixed up much faster than mail-order would."

Lucky almost declined, then thought, well, why not?

Durango was a tourist town, and a Colorado ski town also, and as such boasted some surprisingly expensive boutiques, mostly featuring Southwestern style apparel. While she hated to spend too much on clothing she knew she'd be unlikely to wear much once she got back to Los Angeles, she did need more clothing than she'd brought, and allowed Marla to advise her on several outfits. She did indulge herself in a western fringed suede jacket, having always wanted one, and a very beautiful hand-woven ruana that seemed perfect as a wrap for the cool evenings.

"You know, you're going to need some jewelry to go with these outfits," Marla commented.

"What I need to go with these outfits is some underwear," Lucky responded. "Does this town have a mall?"

"Sure." Marla paused. "Or there's Wal-Mart."

Lucky snorted. "If Josef saw a charge to Wal-Mart on one of his credit cards, he'd disown me."

"Somehow, I'd gathered that might be the case," Marla grinned.

Lucky rolled her eyes. "You have no idea. I mean, I adore that vamp, but—well, you know how they can be."

Marla nodded, expertly wheeling the Land Rover through the traffic. "I do remember," she said shortly. "now then, about jewelry—we'll have to make a trip up to Silverton."

"Really, I don't need—"

"Think of it as accessories. And it's a spectacular drive. Have you ever been there before?"

"No—but I—I hate spending his money wastefully."

Marla pulled up to a stop light, and turned to look at the younger woman, almost exasperatedly. "I'm not sure I've ever met a freshie like you, Lucky. Look, he drinks your blood, right?"

"Yes, but he doesn't buy it."

"He must take good care of you, though. He sent you here."

"Yes, but—"

"He wants you healthy and contented, right?"

Lucky smiled reluctantly. "I have heard him say, 'Happy freshies taste better.'"

"There you go. Do you seriously think he's going to be upset if you put a few thousand on the charge card?"

She opened her mouth to comment, then changed her mind, and shook her head.

Marla reached over and patted her hand. "You know, most of the girls I hostess are out for every cent they can get. Why aren't you?"

Lucky looked away. "Not my style, I guess."

Marla turned her attention to driving again, pulling them into the mall parking lot. Without taking her eyes from the task of finding a parking place and negotiating into it, she said, "Lucky, maybe I shouldn't say this, but—you know, devotion is fine, and all that. Your patron is damned lucky to have you, and possibly he even deserves it. But—loving a vampire like that—one who's never going to love you back the way you care about him—it's not smart."

Lucky smiled out the window, and she could tell from her reflection just how bitter that smile was. "Marla, have I said anything to you yet that makes you think I don't know that?" She paused, and opened the door of the Land Rover. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy some panties."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Three weeks later, Lucky thought despairingly that she could barely remember life back in L.A. She'd been emailing Josef every day, trying her best never to whine about how lonely she was. He must've known, though. He called, not every night, but often enough. He'd never let two nights go by without calling, and she appreciated that. More often than not, when he called, it was to vent to her about the vicissitudes of the markets, or the idiots (his term) with whom he was forced to do business. As far as she knew, he didn't talk to any of the others like that, and it pleased her, made her think there was a need she filled that had nothing to do with her blood.

Three weeks. Resting, reading, taking part from time to time in the activities offered. Sometimes it was interesting just to watch the others. They all seemed a little lost, without having to jockey for the attention of a vamp. It was curious. Freshies had a reputation with the vamps, she knew, for being passive, submissive creatures, but she thought they had that wrong. Between themselves, the freshies tended to be highly competitive, especially the ones who managed to become blood exclusives. And once you'd climbed that particular mountain, there was the whole question of making sure the vamp who owned you didn't lose you in the shuffle of all the others. It was impossible, and sometimes she wondered why she bothered. And then Josef would call, and she'd hear his voice, and he'd tempt her into playing some sexy little "let's pretend" game on the phone, and everything would come roaring back.

She lived for it, even though she knew that as soon as they hung up, he would have no compunction about sinking his fangs into another freshie, that whatever they started, he'd finish with someone else.

And she'd be left, stretching her neck to the night air, offering her throat to the chill of a stay breeze that in the end was nothing like the cool breath of her vampire bending over her, to take her life within his veins.

On nights like that, she went out onto her private patio, staring into the night sky and trying to take comfort from the idea that the same stars she could see above her looked down from the blackness over Josef as well.

In the night stillness, all sounds were clarified, magnified, and it was not unusual for her to hear the sounds of weeping from other rooms.

It would have been unbearably lonely, if not for Sam. Sam, who sat with her at almost every meal, bringing his own plate to her table, ignoring the narrowed gazes of Marla and his own host until it became an accepted fact that the two of them took meals together. Lucky had gotten some worried lectures from Marla about it, and wondered if the woman had included that little tidbit in the reports Lucky was morally certain she was sending off to Josef.

Upon consideration, it seemed unlikely that Josef had been apprised of her growing friendship with a human male. Even if he might appear to be unconcerned, Lucky was well aware of his fierce territoriality. She decided more than once to have nothing further to do with the young man, but kept coming back to the reasoning that it was all perfectly innocent.

They shared conversation at mealtimes. They met at activities, and often sat together. An inveterate gossip, he kept her informed of the news of their small community. He took her mind off Josef, sometimes, and gave her the (slightly catty, she was forced to admit) pleasure of seeing the reactions of the other freshies at her having captured the attention of one of the few males available, even if he was human, not vamp.

And she had to appreciate that after deducing, or learning, who her patron was, he hadn't spread it all over the Posada. After seeing the envious spite and insincere sycophancy Carmencita Diaz endured as the presumed best-connected freshie present, Lucky was very happy to be thought merely one of the crowd.

It was stupid, really, she thought. Everyone there was under contract to a rich, powerful vamp, and no games played here would change anyone's status back outside in the real world. While she realized all the petty gamesmanship was born of loneliness, out of frustrated addiction, that didn't make it the slightest bit better.

Getting a little attention from a gorgeous man like Sam Logan, however, did make her feel a little less alone. It wasn't like anything was going on that anyone needed to worry about, she thought. It wasn't like he'd ever tried to make a pass at her. She wouldn't even allow him to see her to her room.

Then there was the star-gazing class. Lucky had been mildly interested, when she saw the notice.

"Oh come on, Luck," Sam had cajoled, winningly. "There's nothing else going tonight, and the stars are amazing out here. No light pollution. Or the other kind."

"I've noticed."

"Out moping on your patio again?"

"Not every night."

He gave her a shrewd look. "Is that before or after the cell phone rings?"

Lucky blushed and bit her lip. "Would you believe, both?"

Sam shook his head and laughed. "Damn, Lucky, you know there's devoted, and then there's just plain ol' obsessed." He paused. "Come star-gazing. Give yourself something else to think about."

"Well—"

"You can bring your phone, you know."

Lucky just smiled, but she showed up at "dark-thirty," warmly dressed, on the dining hall terrace. She was a little surprised at how few were present; besides herself and Sam, and the activity leader, only about eight others had turned out. She hung at the back of the small group, and Sam stood with her, smiling to let her know he was glad she'd come. And she had to admit the starts were breathtaking, twinkling in the blackness.

General greetings done, the leader announced, "Let's start with something easy." He was one of the hosts, a forty-something man named Lawrence, inevitably quite handsome. As always, Lucky wondered what his story was, how long he'd been with his vamp, how he'd ended up here. "Okay, Ursa Major. If you'll please look this direction…."

She did manage to find the Big Dipper, but then that was one someone had pointed out to her as a child.

""Everybody got that one spotted?" Lawrence asked, waiting for the murmurs of assent before launching into the story behind the constellation. At the conclusion of the story, he continued, "Great. Now, look in the 'cup' of the dipper, and follow the line of the two outside stars. They point toward the north star, Polaris."

This was already confusing. Lucky frowned and muttered to Sam, standing beside her, "I don't see it."

"Polaris, in addition to being the north star, is the tip of the handle of the Little Dipper, Ursa Minor."

"Here," Sam said. He moved to stand behind her, and extended his arm over her shoulder as a pointer. "Just follow my hand." Casually, he put his other hand on her shoulder, and Lucky was instantly focused on the unfamiliar touch. She took a deep breath, and tried not to tense up.

With Sam's help, she managed to sort out Orion and his gleaming belt, the immense sweep of Scorpio, and its beating red heart, Antares. She relaxed enough to lean back a little, allowing him to steady her as the constellations moved higher in the sky. Lawrence droned on, and while normally Lucky would have found his re-telling of the stories from Greek myth that lay behind the names of the constellations, the tales of ravished maidens, monstrous beasts, and jealous gods, most interesting, just now the feel of a hand on her shoulder, a solid chest against her shoulders, overrode all else. She retained, barely, enough presence of mind not to lean her head to one side, stretching her throat as though for a bite, but it was all too easy to imagine that it was Josef standing behind her, not the very human Sam.

"All right," Lawrence said, "now if you'll look almost directly overhead, we're going to look at the constellation Corona Borealis. The "Crown of the North."

Lucky leaned back obediently, laying her head against Sam's shoulder. She felt his hands tighten slightly on her, and assumed he, too, needed steadying. She turned her head towards him, whispering, "I don't see—"

The shock of his mouth covering hers caught her by surprise, and for a moment, she responded to the greedy, seeking heat of his lips, the force of his tongue invading, beginning to explore her. His hands slipped from her shoulders to circle her in the warmth of his embrace as he turned her to face him. For the briefest of moments, she melted against him, luxuriated in the closeness of another, welcomed the gentle fire his lips and his hands had awakened in her. She felt a long loneliness she had barely acknowledged sliding away. Then she opened her eyes, and saw the pale shine of his eyes in the starlight, neither the crystal ice of the vampire or the rich brown of Josef's masquerade. Suddenly the warmth of his body against hers felt overheated, suffocating. This was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Lucky moaned softly and twisted away, her gray eyes wide in the darkness. She didn't trust herself to speak, just then, and she didn't want to create enough of a stir that anyone else would notice. As she started to back away from him, he reached out and caught her elbow, pulling her close again. While his grip had none of Josef's vampire strength, the habit of compliance brought her to Sam, near enough he could whisper in her ear.

"I'm sorry you're upset," he said, voice pitched low, almost like the vampire growl she'd heard so often. "But I'm not sorry I kissed you."

"Let. Me. Go." Her voice, too, was low, intimate, as she desperately tried not to be noticed by the others. Dimly she heard Lawrence's voice, explaining something in response to a question. There was a cloud rising over the shoulder of the mountain to the west. They would all have to go in soon.

Sam gave one last searching look into her face, and released her arm. "Fine," he replied, "but we need to talk. Seriously."

Lucky looked away, then turned her eyes to him again. She nodded. "Not here, not now," she said, and walked away without looking back.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Lucky leaned back in the stone-lined pool, trying to relax in the water from the hot spring. She was alone—with a dozen pools to choose from, people tended to spread out, and develop favorite spots. The one Lucky liked best was screened on two sides by aspen, but with a breath-taking view of the soaring mountain peaks. The buildings of the Posada were entirely out of sight, and she could imagine she was alone with her thoughts.

The tank top she was wearing over her bikini had started to float up with the current of the warm water, and she reached down to jerk it back into place, guiltily, even though there was no one who could have caught a glimpse of her ruby hip chain. Usually she wore a pair of track shorts over her bathing suit as well, ignoring the curious stares of the others. They all seemed intent on showing off as much skin, and as many bite marks, as possible. Marla had gone so far as to ask her about it, and Lucky had shrugged. "Josef's orders," she'd said, deliberately skipping the "my patron" circumlocution crap just to drive the point home.

Marla had twisted her mouth in a parody of a smile, and dropped the topic, although Lucky could guess at the thought balloon over her head. Something along the lines of "there's just no reasoning with that freshie, when it comes to her lord and master vamp." Well, that was just fine.

At least, three days after the event with Sam, she was a little calmer. That night, she'd been shaking like an aspen in high wind by the time she got back to her room, and she'd had to break out what she thought of as her last-ditch defense. She rummaged in the drawer of her bedside table, pulling out a black silk scarf wrapped around another item. Unfolding it reverently, she took up the sheer softness of a white alpaca scarf, bringing it to her face and inhaling deeply. Maybe it was her imagination, but she'd swear it still smelled faintly like Josef. She'd had to sneak off into his dressing room to steal it, the day she left, knowing she was one of the few who could do it. She hoped that if he noticed it was gone, he'd understand the impulse, and possibly find it amusing. For all his boyish affectations, adorable as they might be, she never forgot the centuries of experience behind the façade.

And on a night when she felt she'd somehow betrayed his trust, the feel and scent of that little piece of him comforted her, even though she was glad that one night that her cell phone never rang.

She'd kept very much to her room the next couple of days, ordering her meals delivered, and then eating very little. She didn't really understand it herself, and finally today she'd listened to Marla and ventured out. Not such a bad idea, she thought. This was calm, peaceful. Lucky watched several bright orange dragonflies dart through the slight mist rising from the pool, and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the mountain afternoon.

Sam stood back a few yards, observing her quietly. He'd been looking for her, every mealtime, every activity, He'd even asked her hostess, the altogether too formidable Marla, if Lucky was all right, and gotten a double lecture for his trouble—first from Marla, and then from Randall, his own host. At least he'd had the good sense not to mention what had happened between them. Randall had already given him the song-and-dance about the dangers of inappropriate relationships. Before, he'd always been able to defend his actions on the grounds that with so few males around, he needed to befriend someone. He was so lonely, away from his vampire. And that was true. Truer than he really meant to reveal.

Randall hadn't bought it, not for a minute. "Fine," he'd retorted. "Have a dozen friends. Have two dozen. There are over fifty delightful young freshies here, any of whom would adore a little masculine attention. All I'm saying, Sam, is share the wealth. Besides, do you really want to piss off her vamp? Do you have any idea what he might do to you?"

"I'm not after her blood. I just enjoy her company."

"Doesn't matter. You know that."

"But my lady doesn't care about that sort of thing, and I think she'd protect—"

"She would have no say in the matter whatsoever. Trust me on this one."

Nonetheless, all the lectures couldn't undo what had happened, and Sam was haunted by that moment when she had seemed to return his kiss. He had to talk to her about that. And yet when he'd finally spotted her bright red hair against the greenery surrounding the hot spring pool, all his rehearsed lines had evaporated, and he had to work on finding the courage to approach her at all.

He slipped off his shoes, and his hands hesitated at the hem of his shirt, the button of his jeans. No, he thought, he'd better not do anything that might give her the wrong idea, or alarm her. So when he slipped into the hot water opposite her, he was fully clothed.

Lucky started, anyway, sitting up and looking him straight in the eye. "Please leave, Sam."

"We need to talk."

"Just go."

"Answer me this, Lucky—and God, don't you have a name? Something besides some bloodsucker nickname?—but tell me, do you ever think about the future? About what's going to happen to you?"

Lucky shook her head, knowing she was relenting. "Too many questions, Sam. Slow down. Unpack."

"Okay, then, name. What's your real name?"

She sighed. "My name is Lucky. And any details beyond that are none of your business."

"And your future? I'm thinking I might like that to be some of my business."

Lucky decided a deliberate misunderstanding was in order. "What are you? An insurance salesman?" she snapped.

It didn't work. Sam looked at her, his eyes full of gentle sympathy. "What happens, Lucky? What happens after that vamp is through with you? I know we all think—we all hope—it's going to last forever. Don't get me wrong, I'm completely devoted to my lady, and when she moves on, it's going to break my heart. Even if it's not healthy, I don't want it to end. But I know it's going to happen."

"It might not be for years."

"And it might be next week. Who knows?"

Lucky folded her arms defensively. "Josef will take care of me. He says I belong to him."

Sam frowned. "Are you—do you—are you intimate?"

The whole world snapped into sharper focus, the adrenaline spike of her anger was so intense. "Wow. That's really none of your business. Like out of the ballpark homerun none of your business."

"Which can either mean yes, or no, but not for lack of trying on your part."

Lucky blushed, the blood flooding hotly to her face. "I've never liked you less, Sam. Go away."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude, Lucky. It's just—"

"Ever since I got here—you know, Josef sent me here to rest and get healthy, but everyone seems to be telling me how terrible this life is. I don't understand it. It's bad enough missing him, without people trying to tear me away from him." She was fighting tears, and bowed her head, hands to her face. She could hear Sam moving in the steaming water, but refused to look at him.

"Dammit, Lucky," he said, sliding across the stone ledge to put his arms around her. "You make everything so difficult."

"So I've been told," she replied, sniffing back her tears. "Josef always says so."

"Why am I not surprised?" He was a little surprised that she wasn't trying to fight free of his arms, but he wasn't about to push his advantage, either. "You won't like it, Luck', but I wanted to ask you something. Several somethings, in fact."

She stiffened, yet did not retreat, waiting.

"I'm guessing that he's promised that your future prosperity is taken care of. But do you ever think about a husband—someone who doesn't have to keep a harem? Have you ever thought about children? A little Lucky or two running around?"

"Are you volunteering, Sam?" Lucky replied, but her tone wasn't as harsh as she'd intended. "What about your vamp? You claimed you were devoted. Don't you care about her?"

"Of course I do. I'm starting to think it's not quite the same, though."

"Probably not. So tell me, Sam—do you sleep with her? Are you a full-service freshie?"

He recoiled a little at that, his arms loosening, and she took the opportunity to slide away. Somehow, even the brilliance of the cloudless sky seemed to have dimmed. Sam bit his lip, and the blond hair falling in his eyes made him look younger, vulnerable. Lucky had a sudden flash, an image before her eyes of Josef's face. She'd seen the vampire in many moods, but never, she thought, vulnerable. It had a certain appeal, but it also made her afraid. She wasn't used to the idea of a male in her life being anything other than in complete command of his situation, and she found it unnerving.

"We both have obligations, Lucky," Sam said. "I thought perhaps you'd understand—" He stood suddenly, the water, disturbed, lapping just below his waist. "Maybe I should show you." With one smooth movement, he pulled the shirt he wore over his head, and looked at her with defiance in his eyes. All the masks were gone.

At first, Lucky had a hard time comprehending what she was seeing. Sam's chest was covered with a tracery of scars, everything from white, nearly invisible fang marks , to the angry red of barely healed, recent wounds. This was no single event, no accidental injury, but the marks of sustained, systematic torture. Lucky put a hand to her mouth, sickened. There was no reason to ask why—she'd heard that some older vamps were cruel that way, but she'd never seen the evidence of it with her own eyes. Somehow, the skin was smooth, but the marks were there to be seen. Lucky knew that if she ever walked away from Josef, she would carry scars from her willing acceptance of his fangs, and the pleasures that came from giving him her blood, but nothing like this. Sam would never be able to look at himself in a mirror without seeing the remains of his vampire's attention. Without thinking, her other hand dropped to the spot on her thigh that had once borne the marks of a vicious attack. Josef had been so pleased to see those rough tears removed, but obviously Sam's vampire had no distaste for scars.

"What does she do to you, Sam?" she whispered.

She'd never seen such a bitter cast to his smile. "Only what they all do, Lucky. Whatever they want."

Lucky found herself standing, the thin air cool on her wet skin. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't pity me, Lucky," he said. "For God's sake—just understand."

She nodded, but before she could speak, they were interrupted by the strident sound of a brass bell. Something was wrong, and the alarm bell was calling them in.

They'd been told—repeatedly—that the bell signified an emergency. Fire. Impending blizzard. Armed intruders. Anything that the long experience and paranoid imagination of vampires could conceive, had a contingency plan, and one that started with the alarm bell gathering the freshies.

Marla had stressed to Lucky that it was extremely unlikely she'd ever hear the signal. "Really, this is a very tranquil place," she'd said. "We pride ourselves on avoiding emergencies."

Now, however, the steady tolling of the bell shattered the quiet of the Posada.

Vaulting out of the hot water to the lip of the stone pool with impressive grace and agility for a non-vamp, Sam stood, shirt still hanging from one hand, and bent to offer a hand to Lucky. With only a heartbeat's hesitation, Lucky laid her hand in his and scrambled out of the pool, far less gracefully, trying to make sure the tank top over her bathing suit was hiding what she needed it to hide. She shoved her feet into her sandals without relinquishing her grip on his hand, and together they began to make their way back to the Posada as quickly as they could.

Soon, they were catching glimpses of the dining hall terrace, where a crowd had gathered. The altitude and their exertion had combined to leave Lucky a little short of breath, but the sight of the milling throng was enough to spur her on.

"At least I don't see smoke," she panted, and looked at Sam in surprise when he suddenly halted.

His blond hair was plastered in damp tendrils around his face, but what she noticed was the pleading look in his eyes as he stepped behind a towering Douglas fir, and started to struggle back into his dripping t-shirt. It tangled and hung up on his back, and, moved to compassion, Lucky reached out, unsnarling the wet fabric with gentle hands, smoothing it across the marred skin of his torso. No words were exchanged, none were needed, as they walked on back to the lodge, but once more his hand sought hers, and enfolded it warmly.

Lucky thought almost all the guests, and most of the staff, had assembled. As they reached the terrace, she caught sight of Marla bearing down on them, and snatched her hand free from Sam's. "Sorry," she muttered.

The hostess looked relieved to see her. "Lucky, there you are. I was wondering."

The freshie shrugged. "I was down at the hot springs when I heard the signal. What's going on?"

"There's been—an incident," Marla said, "but everything will be all right."

Sam snorted. "That's not very informative, Marla. What kind of incident?"

The hostess tightened her lips, glaring at him. "The kind that is not really any of your concern, Mr. Logan."

He flashed her a brilliant and quite false, smile. "If it's none of our business, why are we all standing around out here waiting for developments?"

Whatever Marla's answer might have been, it was lost in the sudden harsh drub-drub of an approaching helicopter that arrowed in to settle on the open field not far from the terrace.

Lucky looked up sharply, catching Marla's eye. "Life flight?"

Marla frowned, but said nothing. Sam touched Lucky's elbow lightly and slid away into the crowd. She could see that the guests had broken into small knots of people, whispering and huddling together, and started trying to determine who might be missing, but she hadn't paid enough attention to the comings and goings of the guests to be able to come to any conclusions before a stir at the doorway caught her eye.

The helicopter had disgorged several uniformed EMTs, and as a wheeled stretcher was brought out of the Posada, they rushed forward to take charge of it. Lucky couldn't see well, but caught a glimpse of disordered blue-black hair, and an abnormally pale face over a bloodstained sheet. One of the hostesses was walking next to the gurney, her face blank with shock and disbelief, the professional calm of her movements in sharp contrast to her expression.

"Carmencita?" Lucky asked softly, feeling as though the ground were tilting beneath her feet. "She did this to herself? I don't understand. Why?"

Her attention riveted on the medical procession, she hadn't heard Sam return, but pivoted to look at him as he spoke, his words striking with the sting of hailstones. "She found out an hour ago—her vampire lost his turf war. He was killed last night. And she wanted to go with him."

#

Lucky watched the bedside clock mark the minutes silently. One am, two am…she pulled herself into a tighter ball underneath the blankets, feeling the sapphire satin slide against the sheets. She didn't think she'd fall asleep, but her cell phone was under the hand she had curled close to her chest, her other hand clutching the ruby at her throat. She always played a little game with herself, saying that whenever the clasp of the necklace worked around to touch the stone, Josef was thinking about her. She hoped tonight it was true. Josef had to call tonight, he just had to. And when he did—she wasn't sure what she was going to say, or how to say it, but somehow she'd have to make him comprehend that he had to make a trip out here. That no matter what it took for him to get through the gate, or over the fence, he had to be here for her. If she didn't feel the touch of his cool hands on her again, and soon, she wasn't sure what was going to become of her. She only prayed she could make him understand.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lucky had been staring into the fire in the adobe fireplace for hours, she thought, then suddenly looked up to find Josef framed in the night backdrop of the patio doorway. He had appeared, soundlessly, his black slacks and dark striped shirt as pristine as though he had just stepped out of his dressing room and not off a mountain trail.

She rose, the soft folds of her ruana falling from her shoulders to pool on her chair. "Josef," she said, her eyes shining. "You came."

"Tell me why I'm here, Lucky," he said, his tone deceptively gentle. He looked her up and down, noting that she seemed thinner, that her emerald satin nightgown fell a little looser than he preferred. "This is breaking at least seven rules—most of which I established."

"I—I was afraid, Josef."

He closed the distance between them slowly, nostrils flaring to drink in her scent, his face darkening with anger. He surprised himself with the vehemence of his response, but couldn't seem to quell the sudden rage inside. "A mortal, Lucky?" he asked, lips thinning. "Don't deny it, I can smell him on you."

She shook her head, biting her lip.

"Do I need to kill this guy? Or just maim him a little?"

"Take a deep breath, Josef. He's never been in this room."

"And his room would be--where?"

"I don't know. And you can tell if I'm lying about that, can't you?"

Josef closed his eyes, inhaling, and Lucky watched him silently. "When I said that you belong to me, Lucky, it wasn't conditional." He paused, regarding her intently. "So tell me what happened."

"I was tempted," she said. "He asked me some hard questions, but—Josef, if you know that, you know that—nothing—"

"I know."

Lucky felt a rare flash of anger. "Although I don't know why you should care if it had." She was breathing heavily, eyes blazing. "It's not as though we're—we're sleeping together."

She wouldn't have thought he could grow paler, but he did, eyes flashing silver as his vampire nature emerged in a rush. He seized her roughly, and before she could comprehend what was happening, she was on the bed, the hard length of his body above her, half-crushing her into the mattress. She had not resisted, but he caught her wrists in one large hand and stretched her arms painfully above her head. He snarled and ground his pelvis against her, not once but several times. His other hand was poised at the neckline of her nightgown, ready to rip it from her.

"Is this what you wanted, Lucky? You want me to fuck you? My fangs inside you aren't enough?"

He put his face close to hers, feeling his canines pushing out, feeling the raw emotion radiating from her. His entire body was screaming to do just what he had said, to take her as thoroughly as he could. He moved against her again, thrusting, fighting the barriers of their clothing, a savage joy in the harsh sensations of his actions.

"Is this what you want?' he asked again.

She caught her breath in a sob and turned her face away, for the first time not to give him her throat, although the motion was so like her usual willing offer to him that it gave him pause. Even now, though, he could sense no resistance in her. The body splayed beneath him was warm, tense, exciting his desires. He moved again above her, the heat of the contact, even through his clothes, the smooth liquid slide against the satin she wore, the satin of her skin, dangerously close to breaking through his control. But already, the motion was changing, becoming less a punishment, less an expression of rage, more sensuous, more for the sheer physical pleasure of the pressure between them, like a promise of ecstasy to come.

He knew she had wanted this, had wanted him, for a long time, and he had carefully, enjoyably built the anticipation step by step. Perhaps he had focused on his own anticipation, selfishly ignoring what it was doing to her. And now, tonight, he had come from Los Angeles to this remote corner of Colorado at her tearful request. He had made this journey—had he not known the destination was exactly here? Not a place, but a woman? And more than that, a woman open beneath him? This woman?

Josef put his head down, forehead resting at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his anger away. Lucky was trembling under him, and he was suddenly sickened by his behavior. Slowly he loosened his grasp on her wrists and moved to lie beside her. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd cringed away from him. Or blamed her if she did. When instead she turned to bury her face against his shoulder, his arms encircled her naturally, and he felt a deep, unaccustomed shame rising. He rested his chin against the top of her head, listening as her heartbeat steadied. He didn't understand it, he never understood it.

"I'm sorry, Lucky, I'm sorry." He spoke softly, and began moving his hands in slow, soft circles over her back, soothing, calming—although he thought it might be as much for his benefit as hers.

Lucky pressed her face tighter to his cool, still chest. "Why?" she said, her voice muffled against him. "You were right."

He put a hand up to her face, and gently urged her to look up at him. "And what then, babe? If I made love to you tonight, what then?"

"What do you mean?"

"It would change things. You know that. Would you expect to be my girlfriend? Or still just one of my freshies, with—extra duties?"

Lucky didn't answer at once, and when she spoke, there was something in her voice he couldn't quite identify. It might have been resignation, or an admission of defeat. Either way, it touched a place in him he wasn't ready to acknowledge. "If you wanted me to be your lover, it already would have happened. I know that."

"Do you think I should turn you? Is that what you want?"

He thought he'd never seen her eyes so large. "Josef, if I were turned, could I still feed you?"

He frowned, not displeased, but curious. "No. It doesn't work that way."

"Then I think you know my answer to that question."

"You'd turn down immortality? Just to be able to give me your blood?"

Lucky smiled, slowly. "Yes, Josef, that's right."

He looked at her, torn between relief at not being asked to attempt a turning, and the sense he had of being unworthy of such devotion. He bent his head down to kiss her, his cool lips meeting her warm mouth. She brought her hands up to cup his face, trying to pour all her passion, all her life, into this contact, sighing as he accepted it, their bodies pressed together in a long, perfect line. A sweet eternity passed, and Lucky thought that this moment, this kiss, was all the immortality she would ever need.

When at last their mouths parted, Josef, who was accustomed to doing exactly as he pleased, moved slightly to lie on his back, which was not what he wanted to do. Keeping an arm closely around Lucky, he put his other hand up under his head, and crossed his ankles comfortably, staring at the ceiling. For perhaps half an hour, neither spoke, neither moved. Lucky was almost holding her breath, afraid to break the spell of the moment.

Eventually, when Josef managed to gather his thoughts, and spoke, his words were uncharacteristically tentative. "Lucky?" he asked, "This human—does he—do you--?"

Lucky moved a little closer. "He offered me a life that you can't. At least I think that's what he was offering. I wasn't sure, Josef. I had to see you again. I needed to feel your touch."

"And I came in like Prince Charming, and frightened and hurt you. Crap." If he stared more intently at the ceiling, Lucky thought, the beams would crack from the sheer force of his gaze.

"You came in and showed me that what I do makes a difference to you. That you cared."

"Lucky—"

"I know, Josef. We don't talk about it, we don't say the words."

His arm tightened around her. "Let me tell you this, Luck. I have rules, and several of them involve not getting romantic with freshies. I take this gift you—and the others—give me so freely. Should I make you my whores as well? There has to be a line."

"Sometimes, Josef," Lucky said carefully, "you show your age. If we give more to you than blood, and give it willingly, it isn't whoring. It's not as though you seduce us with false promises."

His mouth twitched. "Maybe not. But I do seduce you, nonetheless."

Silence again for a time, then Lucky asked softly, "Josef?"

"Yes?"

"That ruby chain you sent? I wear it. Always."

"I knew you would."

Lucky swallowed. "Do you think—do you think you'll ever want to see it?"

Josef had to smile at the gently oblique quality of her query. "In my considered opinion," he said, "I'd say it was almost inevitable. Sooner or later."

"I can wait." She shivered a little, and he reached across her to pull a blanket over her.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you."

It might have been almost an hour later when Josef sighed to himself, and raised his head to look down at her. "Pleasant as this is, doll, I've got a long way to go before dawn. And a stop or two to make before I leave the grounds."

Lucky made a sleepy, protesting noise, and wriggled against him. "Couldn't you stay?"

"You know I can't, babe. Tempting as the prospect is."

She sighed. "I know." There was a pause, and she said, "It meant a lot, though, Josef, for you to come here."

"We're supposed to take care of each other, Lucky." Josef sat up, and Lucky propped herself on one elbow.

"Do you need a drink before you go? I'm a lot healthier now, I'm sure of it."

He reached out and stroked her jawline. "And leave you with a set of fresh fang marks to explain? Very sweet of you, but no. I'm good." He stood, turned to go.

Lucky sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Wait—"

"I have to go, sweetheart."

"Can't I come home? This place—it's a bad place for me, Josef."

The vampire sighed and sat down again on the edge of the bed. "I want you home, believe me," he said with a quick raise of his eyebrows. "But it's not time yet. Can you hang on another week? Maybe two?"

"Why?"

"It's hard to explain, babe, but just keep your eyes open, okay?"

Lucky didn't understand, but nodded. "I—I guess I can do it."

"That's my girl. And, Lucky?"

"Yes, Josef?"

He favored her with a slow smile. "Keep teasing me. I like it. Makes me feel—alive."


	8. Chapter 8

La Posada

La Posada

Chapter 8

Lucky stretched under the blankets and curled up again as her feet hit a cold spot, eyes half-closed against the morning light. In that delicious state between asleep and fully awake, she could replay the events of the night before. Parts of it were perhaps unpleasant, but the important thing was that Josef had come. When she needed him, he'd come to her. She tried not to make more of it than it was, she tried to remind herself of what she was to him, one of many, and replaceable. Still, last night he'd been here, lying beside her in this bed, his cool mouth on hers….she wriggled with remembered pleasure, reaching for the pillow where his head had rested, trying to find some lingering scent.

And she sighed, thinking that his visit had been secret, and she needed to behave as though it had not occurred. Although how she was to frown and act bereft, with the memory of his lips on hers, she had no idea. She considered staying in bed for the day, or at least the morning, cuddling his pillow against her body, trying to hold onto the dream of him a little longer.

Wearily, Lucky realized that wouldn't work. Besides, if he wanted her to be watching her surroundings, lying in bed was not the way to go about it. Josef had seemingly endless energy. She needed to emulate that.

Breakfast was quiet. Most meals had been, since Carmencita's suicide attempt, with many sequestering themselves. Even freshies who swore they were only in it for the money, or the bite, had to stop and think. Personally, Lucky had never been more in sympathy with Carmencita than she was now. The bare idea of a world with out Josef's ageless, sardonic presence—her mind shied away from the concept, and she wondered briefly if the vampire would laugh at her for that, or agree.

This morning, however, she felt ravenous, and had to remind herself sternly to stick to her usual breakfast order of coffee, fruit, and yogurt. She knew the staff would be alert to breaks in pattern, especially now. So she sipped her coffee, and tried to look as though she were reading her book, not watching the room. She was successful enough that she was actually slightly surprised to find Sam sliding into the chair directly across the table. He looked pale, haggard.

"Are you okay? You look terrible."

"Good morning to you, too." He signaled for coffee, and didn't say another word until after a few stabilizing sips. Then he looked around, casually, to make sure no one was near. "No, I'm not all right. I had a visitor."

Lucky's eyes widened. She could hear Josef's voice in her head mentioning "other stops." "Oh," she said faintly. "Oh, dear."

Sam's face looked harder than she'd ever seen it. "Did you really need to sic him on me, Lucky? Was that really necessary?"

"Sam, I'm sorry. I had no idea. Honestly."

"Right. Sure."

Lucky flushed. "It isn't like I could've even told him your room number. If I'd known—what did he do?"

"He didn't do anything." Sam looked past her, eyes haunted. "I woke up, and he was sitting, staring at me. Damn, those old ones are scary."

"He's never been anything but good to me."

"Whatever." Sam glanced at her, then looked away again, fidgeting. "He just—just talked. About how the blood of his exclusives, and how precious it was to him. He told me about how when he was young, the vampires had blood slaves, and how the system now is better, because the blood was willing. How the bonds become almost unbreakable. He said if I was an exclusive, I should know all that. And that there were few limits on what he'd do for a willing heart."

Lucky was troubled by this, troubled by her response to it, by the leap her heart made. Still, she was worried about her friend. "Did he threaten you, Sam?"

"He didn't need to. That guy can scare the crap out of you without moving a finger." Sam paused. "Lucky, did he—did he punish you? For me, I mean? If he did, I—I'm sorry."

Knowing what she did of the way Sam's vampire viewed punishment for minor transgressions, the best she could manage was a crooked smile. "He's not like that to us. We talked about some things—look, I don't want to trivialize what happened between us, Sam, because you know and I know it was a big deal. It's just—what Josef said about unbreakable bonds—he wasn't only talking about himself. When he tells me he owns me, it's not just body and blood he means. It's heart and mind as well, and he didn't take that from me, I gave it to him. If that's not what you have with your vamp, then I'm really sorry, but you just can't understand."

The other freshie was silent for a long time. He poured himself another cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, and sipped at it thoughtfully. Finally, looking away from her, he said softly, "Lucky, they don't—they can't—love us."

Lucky blinked at the sudden prick of tears in her eyes. "This is stupid. And pointless."

"Maybe."

"You're such a guy, Sam. Do you think you're going to argue me out of what I feel?" She paused. "Isn't there something else we can talk about? Has anyone heard anything about Carmencita?"

Sam frowned, shifting gears, but acquiesced to her request. "She's kind of off the radar. I mean, well, it depends. If she lives they say she'll be spoils of war for the one who killed her vamp."

Lucky set down the orange she was peeling. "That can't be right. Surely under those circumstances she wouldn't be willing."

Sam shrugged. "You really are from a different culture, aren't you? Think about it. She was raised with the expectation that she'd be a freshie for however long her vamp wanted, then breed another generation to follow after her. It's all she knows."

"But if she was attached enough to try and kill herself over him—how could she go to another vamp?" Lucky asked. She just couldn't understand it.

Sam's voice took on an edge of bitterness. "How could she not? Otherwise, she's out in the street. Standing in the line outside whatever freshie club she can find, desperate for it." He looked bleak. "And it's downhill from there."

"If that's so—well, it seems like she'd come back here to recuperate, then. I mean, if the new vamp wants her for, well, for his own."

"Who knows? It's all up to a vampire who just won a turf war against a very old, very powerful opponent. So I'm thinking, pretty damn ruthless. How he—or she, for all I know—treats freshies, I don't know."

They were still staring at each other across the table when Marla chirped brightly over Lucky's shoulder. "Well, good morning. And how are you two doing today?"

Lucky jumped, startled, and turned to Marla, forcing a smile. "Oh, we're just depressing each other with how much we miss our vamps."

"I can imagine," Marla replied, and Lucky thought she caught a hint of irony in her tone.

"Nothing you haven't heard a million times," Sam added.

"Very likely. Homesickness does seem to be endemic here." Marla waved at a chair. "Mind if I join you?" She sat without awaiting a response.

"Actually, I'm glad to see you, Marla," Lucky said. "Can you tell us how poor Carmencita is doing?" She paused delicately. "I know it's not really any of my business, but the whole thing is so—so distressing."

Marla patted her hand, an intrusion Lucky suffered only for the sake of possible information. "I was under the impression you were less than fond of her."

Lucky shrugged. "Perhaps not, but I wouldn't wish her troubles on anyone."

"Ahh, I see. Well, as it happens, I really haven't been told anything new. But they did get her to the hospital in time, and my guess is that she'll recover." Marla helped herself to coffee, adding cream and sugar with small, precise movements. "In any event, she won't be returning here."

"Cast aside?" Sam asked, "Or just a bad example?"

The temperature of Marla's gaze dropped several degrees, although her voice remained steadily warm. "I can see why your vampire finds you so entertaining, Sam. As well as why she might have wanted a break from being so—entertained."

He pretended to wince. "How you wound me" he said. " I thought Lucky had the cutting remarks concession here."

Marla ignored him. "As it happens, it is felt that—should Carmencita need to come a place like the Posada, another establishment—new surroundings—would cause her less pain."

"Unless, of course, someone just wanted to make a point," Lucky replied.

Marla's lips thinned. "Indeed." She paused. "We're certainly feeling our oats this morning, aren't we? You must've had a good night."

Lucky blinked. "Yes, I did," she said. "I can only hope yours was as pleasant." She smiled, and Marla smiled back, and Sam wondered if hiding under the table would draw undue attention. He decided against it, but the thought was very, very tempting.


	9. Chapter 9

La Posada

Chapter 9

Marla tapped her pen on her desk, thinking, then rose to pace her office nervously. Outside the deep sills of the windows piercing the thick adobe walls, a late afternoon thunderstorm was rolling through the high park, and the ground was frosted with piles of tiny hailstones. It was dramatic, beautiful, and completely wasted on her. She found herself fingering the old scars at her wrist. Almost ten years down the road from her time as a freshie, and whenever she was stressed, just a little pressure on those scars could evoke the echo of the serenity she'd known with her last vamp. Maybe tonight she should call him, just say hello and hear his voice, the sound of it like a drug to her, a velvet addiction. Maybe he'd have some advice. Anything to take her mind off this mess.

The Posada was supposed to be an oasis, a calm refuge for the walking wounded. And it had been. For decades the depleted had come, rested, healed. And returned to the beings who both cherished and damaged them.

Sometimes Marla wondered if the whole concept was wrong, if isolating these petted victims was exactly the opposite of what they deserved. The vamps, she knew, would never agree, as invested as they were in keeping the status quo. The strongest voice she knew of being that of that bastard, Kostan.

Marla's lips tightened. She so wished she could choke that spoiled, uppity freshie of his. How Lucky had managed to whine a vamp of Kostan's age and power into running to her all the way from L. A., Marla would never know. She didn't even want to think about the extent of the relationship between those two. Unhealthily close, to say the very least. Most of the vamps who sent freshies here were old, and thinking with their fangs, but Marla was starting to wonder if Kostan was thinking with something else entirely. And that seemed very unlike the Josef Kostan she'd met once, long ago.

It was time to call in a favor, and see if she could find out anything. She pulled a key on a long gold chain out of her neckline. She hadn't had occasion to call him in quite some time now, and it wasn't a number to put on either speed dial or a rolodex. The key opened a secret compartment in her antique desk. In the small recess, a little, innocuous-appearing notebook held a carefully coded list of numbers. And even those were not what they appeared. Marla ran a finger down the list to the number she needed, then mentally performed the calculation to tell her the actual telephone number. Dialing the listed number not only would not get her through, it would set off a complex series of alerts that would cause, well, would cause some bad things to happen, and some very scary lady vamps in black leather to show up at the Posada. Not good. She did the math again to make sure she had the number right, took a deep breath, and called. Her heart was in a nervous flutter, and she hated it. Great, she thought, just great.

The phone in Denver was answered on the second ring. Slade Weston's voice was the same slow, sleepy drawl it had always been, reflecting the speech patterns he'd learned as a child, well over a century ago, but he still managed to come straight to the point. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?"

"Slade, I—" Dammit, the sound of his voice wasn't supposed to make her so breathless. Not after all these years. "I think I have a situation brewing. At the Posada."

"And this is my concern, how?" His voice was cold, and Marla wondered if calling him had been a mistake. He'd never cared as much for her as she'd hoped, but she had thought there was at least a little warmth left between them. Suddenly she was feeling as shy as she had when she'd first known him, unsure if he'd ever look her way.

"I just—some advice would be helpful, Slade."

"Thought you had everything under control, darlin'. Isn't that your specialty?" Slade paused. "Hold on." She could hear him ordering someone out of the room. From the sound of it, some little freshie tramp. There was a giggle, and a coy protest. Then he was back with her, at least as much as he ever had been. When he spoke into the phone again, his slow Western twang held an edge of annoyance, somehow reminding her of the deadly buzz of a disturbed rattlesnake. "Since you have seen fit to interrupt my breakfast, Marla, perhaps you'd better tell me what's going on up there."

Marla hesitated for a moment, deciding where to start, then plunged into the tale. Slade listened without comment until she wound down.

"Marla," he said when she'd finished. "offhand, I'd say you're screwed."

"It's that bad?"

"Don't know what you could have done with Don Diego's girl, except have made sure she didn't find out about him until she was under better observation. But you should've treated Kostan's pet with kid gloves. And eased that idiot boy away from her," Weston said.

"I tried, Slade. I really tried."

"And you failed. Don't whine. You need to be in damage control mode at this point."

"I—I didn't tell you everything just yet."

Over two hundred miles away in Denver, Slade Weston ran his tongue over his fangs. He was regretting having sent out the freshie he'd been on the verge of feeding from. His hunger, he could tell, was starting to distort his judgement, and the last thing he needed right now was a problem at the fucking Posada, of all places. He stilled, listening to Marla growing more agitated. "I'm waiting. And you remember how I hate waiting."

He heard a faint rustle, her skirts shifting slightly around her as she moved nervously. "Slade—I can't explain it, but the reason I know how pissed Kostan is—he told me."

"I assumed he had."

"In person." Marla swallowed at the memory, a hand rising to her throat. Her voice sank to a whisper. "He was here."

There was nothing on the other end of the line for a long while, and Marla knew the vampire was thinking. She only hoped he wasn't thinking about killing her. If she thought the danger was great enough…she could call another number off her coded list, throw a few things into a suitcase and take one of the Posada's vehicles…not a Hummer, that would be too obvious, maybe one of the Jeeps. Surely she could find a place to hide, long enough to get into the underground network that could make her vanish from the radar. And how did she know that was even real? Maybe it was a ruse, maybe she'd only be delivering herself up for execution. The meshes of this net were too tightly woven. She'd have to take her chances.

Then Slade spoke, seemingly randomly, tangentially. "Marla, tell me this freshie's name again. Kostan's girl."

"Lucky. Lucky Alexander."

"What does she look like?"

"Red hair, tallish. Pale…but that's a given."

Slade cast his mind back over his recent trip to L.A. There had been functions he'd attended at Kostan's house. Of course, the dinner selections had been lavish; L.A. vamps never did anything by half measures. He'd been particularly pleased with the pretty little blonde Kostan had detailed to be his personal escort, and even considered seducing his way into more than her veins. But among all the humans, he did remember Kostan's personal crew. They'd been reserved, almost to the point of standoffishness. Very devoted, all of them, and unique.

"That one," he said. "Let me tell you something, sweetheart. I'm not sure exactly what Kostan sees in her, and I don't ever plan on getting close enough to find out. He's paranoid about his food supply, even for a vampire. But I do know this. That freshie is smart. Smarter than you."

"But what should I do about this?"

Slade was off in lala land again, his attention diverted by the ache in his fangs. He dragged his thoughts away from visions of pulsing red life offered up to him willingly. He supposed it was up to him to at least offer Marla a little advice. He sighed. "First thing I'd do is get that freshie boy off the premises. Immediately."

Marla frowned. "He's not healthy enough, Slade. It's too soon."

The vampire's voice cooled a few degrees. "You asked for my advice, I gave it."

"You don't know his vamp. This could kill him."

"No, but I do know Josef Kostan, and if you piss him off—further—this could kill you. We live in a harsh world, darlin'. Or didn't you know?" And with that he cut the connection.

Marla sat, staring out at the mountains, watching the valley fall slowly into darkness.

She wasn't sure what was worse, the invasion of outside politics into her haven, or the physical invasion of the Posada by a vampire. She hadn't laid eyes on an actual vamp for years, not since the last painful interview with Slade. The interview where he'd told her with absolute finality—after feeding on her, of course—that she just wasn't good enough, wasn't special enough, to be his exclusive. Everyone here thought her a retired exclusive, and she certainly preferred them to think so. She'd never been sure whether Slade had arranged this job for her because he thought she'd have a talent for the work, or to stash her out of his sight. She suspected it was a little of both.

And now a trio of spoiled brats was threatening her safety. First Carmencita, and how badly had that been handled? To make matters worse, she'd been informed only that morning that the girl's new patron wanted her sent back to the Posada to recover from her suicide attempt. Pathetic twit. Then those other two. Sam Logan, with his take no prisoners attitude…she supposed it was a survival mechanism, but it was damned abrasive. And Lucky, who never said a word out of line, never a gesture or a glance that could be construed as rebellion, who seemed to draw trouble to her. If she was typical of Kostan's current crop of freshies, Marla hoped that the rest of them stayed healthy. And stayed far away from the Posada. That would be the last thing she needed.

And then there had been the terror of Kostan's cool hands ripping her out of her bed at 5:30 in the morning, his silvered eyes blazing. Caught in her fear of his strength, she barely remembered his words, but the gist was clear. He'd reminded her that by putting one of his treasured possessions into her keeping, he'd expected her care of that possession to be considerably more painstaking than it had been. There was no explaining to him about her efforts, and that she'd spent more time on his freshie than on most others. Possibly to the detriment of the establishment as a whole.

What she wouldn't forget, soon, or likely ever, was the way he'd pulled her to him, the way she'd struggled in his grip, knowing escape was impossible even as he grazed the skin of her neck with his fangs.

"_What does it take," he said, "to show you that you are not in charge?" She tried to pull away, and he laughed in her face. "Maybe I should just mark you, just take a taste. Something to remind you what we are."_

"_I know what you are," she ground out._

"_And I know what you are, too," he replied in a low growl. "Do you think I couldn't hear your heart speed, Marla?" He put his face to her neck, and she could hear him inhale, feel the coolness of his skin next to hers._

_Marla closed her eyes, cast back unexpectedly to her freshie days, waiting to feel the slide of his fangs through her skin, the pull of his mouth drinking her blood. God help her, if he meant to kill her, she could think of worse ways to go. Her lips parted, and she drew in a silent breath._

"_That mix of lust and fear you're throwing off is quite appetizing, Marla. Almost irresistible," Josef whispered in her ear. He gave a mirthless chuckle and released her so suddenly she staggered back, nearly falling. "Then again," he said, unmistakable malice in his tone, "I do have a reputation as a picky eater."_

_He paced the office as the slow seconds ticked by endlessly. Marla thought his silence would drive her insane, but she was not stupid enough to speak before he did. Finally he stopped, smiling at her futile attempts to maneuver herself so that her desk was between them. As if that would hinder him in the slightest. "Marla, I could sit here and harangue you until the sun comes up, but I trust I've made my point."_

_Relief flooded her, literally weakened her knees. "Yes. You have."_

_The look in his eyes softened a bit, the silver fading to a bare gleam in the warm, more human brown, and he gave her a snarky smile. "By the way, you'll be getting a detailed memo from me shortly on the security upgrades you'll be making." And he was gone._

The clouds had cleared, and the evening shade had fallen across the adobe buildings of the complex. Marla sighed and stood up. Night had come, and she had work to do.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Lucky took a last glance over the body of her email and hit send. She'd asked Josef a few questions about the authenticity of the setting of a novel she was reading, and knew that if he was in the mood, he could discourse expansively about life among the rich and famous in 1930's Hollywood. Just a few days previously, he'd given her some really choice tidbits about life aboard a pirate ship in the 1690's. She was waiting eagerly to hear more of that story someday. Tonight, though, there was no chance of a response before her limited online time was up, so she reluctantly logged off, intending to settle in for the remainder of the evening with a good book.

Every evening around this place was a quiet one, she thought. All us good, submissive little freshies busily working hard at building up our blood. She had a sudden picture of rows of corpuscles doing pushups, and rolled her eyes. And a-one, and a-two.

That thought was interrupted by the ringing of her house phone, about the same time she became aware of a commotion in the hallway. At first, as she moved to pick up the call, it sounded like random banging followed by incoherent shouts, but she realized that one of the voices was shouting, "Lucky!"

Marla's strained voice on the phone did not reassure her. "Please stay inside your room, dear. We'll have this situation handled immediately."

"What situation?"

"It's nothing to worry about. We'll deal with it."

A sudden pounding on her door, followed by a loud scream of "Lucky! For God's sake, open your door!" It sounded like Sam.

She dropped the phone, not even bothering to hang it up, and rushed to the door. Flinging it wide, she caught her breath with a gasp at the scene. Sam was in the hallway, struggling with three of the staff. As she watched, one of them tried to put a hand over Sam's mouth, and Sam bit down hard, eliciting a cry of pain and a curse. The bitten one drew back a hand as though to strike, and Sam plunged harder against his captors, screaming frustration.

"What the hell is going on here?" Lucky demanded, pitching her voice loud enough to be heard over the fray, and everyone froze, momentarily. Sam looked disheveled, wild-eyed. There was a bit of blood on his mouth from where he'd bitten the staff member, and the sight of it struck Lucky to the heart. This was just wrong.

"Help me," he mouthed.

A sound of running footsteps, and Marla appeared around the corner of the corridor. "Lucky, go back in your room, please."

"I don't think so." She crossed her arms stubbornly. "What's going on?" she asked again.

"I'm going to have to insist," Marla snapped.

"They're sending me away, Lucky," Sam said, still struggling. "It's too soon, and they're sending me back." He seemed almost in tears. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Lucky rounded on Marla. "What is your problem? You know we're friends, can't you just give us a minute or two?"

Marla grabbed Lucky's arm above the elbow and half dragged her back a step or two, neatly positioning herself between the two freshies. "This was not my idea," she said with quiet intensity. "And surely you can guess who ordered it."

Lucky put a hand over her mouth, feeling slightly sick. "Oh, shit." She couldn't take her eyes off Sam. He'd quit fighting, but the devastation on his face was plain. He was hoping she could save him somehow. She could see it in his eyes.

"You brought this on," Marla continued, "so don't blame me."

Trying to contain her anger, to present a reasonable front, Lucky took a deep breath. "Please, please don't do this. Just—please don't."

Marla seemed caught in some odd expression between exasperation and sympathy. "You do understand…your patron was very clear that he was to be separated from you immediately."

Lucky felt utterly trapped. If Josef were here, she could reason with him. He was known to listen to reason, on occasion. But just as obviously, this was a result of his last visit, and she had no idea what kind of collateral damage would result from getting him involved again. One last ditch effort, perhaps. "Look, just…just let me talk to him for a minute, and then we won't even look at each other again. Marla, he told me what his blood results were yesterday. He's not strong enough to go back into a regular rotation. You know that."

Marla closed her eyes briefly, and shook her head. "I argued against it, Lucky. Mr. Kostan is extraordinarily persuasive, and I am not going to cross him on this one. Besides, I've spoken to Sam's patron. She's anxious to have him home. She cares about him, she won't hurt him."

"I've seen the evidence of how she cares about him. Have you?"

"Yes." Marla looked away. "Lucky, I'm going to tell you this once, and I want it to be the end of it. He is not your problem. Tell him goodbye, and then put him out of your mind. You have enough on your hands, with your patron."

"We were only ever friends, Marla. That's all. Josef is going overboard on this, and he'd realize it himself, if he were here."

"Well, about the last thing I want right now is another visit from Mr. Kostan," Marla snapped, laying as much emphasis as she could on the formality of the name. "So I intend to do as I'm told, and send this boy away." She paused, and continued more quietly, "I don't like it either, but I don't have much choice."

There was no budging her, it seemed. Lucky sighed. "But you're going to let me say goodbye?"

Marla pursed her lips, stared hard into Lucky's face, then nodded shortly. "Make it fast."

She turned back and made a gesture to the men holding Sam, and they reluctantly released him.

The tall blond that Lucky vaguely remembered meeting a time or two, Sam's host, frowned at Marla. "This is not a good idea. We're going to have to hurry to make the flight as it is."

"So hurry. You can make up five minutes going down the mountain, Randall. I've seen the way you drive."

Lucky pushed by Marla to get to Sam. He threw his arms around her, and she could feel the desperation rolling off him in waves. She hated herself for finding the human warmth of him stifling, but there it was. Knowing they were being watched, too, made it hard to find words.

Sam dropped his head to her shoulder. "I'm scared, Lucky. I'm scared."

She put a hand up to his temple, brushed back the hair and lifted his face so she could see him, saying things she didn't believe. "It'll be all right. She cares for you, I know…she'll understand."

He shook his head, slightly, hopelessly. "She'll kill me, or she'll dump me, and I don't know what would be worse."

Lucky could almost feel the disapproving eyes on them. "Whatever happens, be strong, Sam. You can do this." She leaned forward, whispered in his ear. "Get in touch. Set up a new facebook page—fake everything. Send a friend request, and mention, mention star-gazing. So I'll know it's you."

Sam nodded. He was about to reply, when Randall tapped him on the shoulder. "Look, I'm sure this is beautiful, but we need to go."

"Go to hell, Randall," Sam snarled. His eyes were full. "Lucky…I…I can't say what you've meant to me."

She put a hand gently to his cheek. "I wish things were different, Sam, I do. I'm so sorry about all this."

Then the warm relentless hands were turning him away from her, and others were holding her back. She watched him walk away, Randall's arm around his slumped shoulders.

Lucky had one of those moments, as Sam and his escorts disappeared down the corridor, when she knew she'd remember every detail of the scene. The console table of chunky wood in a Southwestern style, holding a bright bowl of fresh flowers centered on it beneath a mirror with a cut tin frame. She'd never noticed the light fixtures in the hall before, three-dimensional multi-pointed stars of brass and milky, opalescent glass glowing under the curved adobe ceiling, the slightly rough floor of dark, broad planks. It was exotic, evocative and at the moment, she hated every bit of it.

She rounded on Marla, ready to have it out, but the other woman held up a silencing hand. "Let's take this out of the hallway. This is too public."

The one detail Lucky hadn't noticed until now was that up and down the long corridor, other doors here and there were open, curious heads peering out. Yet there they were, all interested in whatever mischief or misery might be going on. You'd think freshies would have better sense, she thought sourly, but she nodded to Marla and swept back into her room, expecting to be followed.

When she heard the door close behind them, she whirled around, taking a deep breath, prepared to launch into a tirade, but Marla spoke first.

"I didn't want to have to do that," she said. "I'm in a corner, Lucky. You put me there, when you got Kostan involved in this."

"That's not fair."

"Really? If you hadn't whined him into making an unauthorized visit, we could all have let this slide under the bridge, and Sam would be safe in his room right now." Marla started pacing, and Lucky sank onto the sofa, hands over her face.

"There is no way Josef would have wanted that boy put in mortal danger," Lucky said. "I just don't believe it."

Marla stopped and stared at her in disbelief. "How well do you know that vampire, Lucky? Do you think he's all moonlight and roses, just because he's nice to you?"

Her hand stealing to the fang that hung around her neck, Lucky looked up defiantly. "I know he can be ruthless, when he needs to be. But—"

"But nothing. You let him know that someone had put hands on—let's not mince words here--his property. He doesn't stand for that. He's not the type." Marla was glaring at her, hands on hips. "I tried to tell you, Lucky. I really tried. But you had to go on thinking this was some romantic game. One you had some hope of winning."

Lucky felt like the walls were closing in on her. Her chest hurt. She shuddered out a long sigh, and spoke softly. "I know I never get to win. I know there's no happy ever after part. But—he's everything to me, right now. And I don't care what he is or what he's done. I'm just saying that you didn't have to handle the situation the way you did." She paused. "Why couldn't he have just been mad at me? That would have been enough. He knew—"

Curiosity got the better of Marla. "Was he mad at you?" she asked.

"A little, maybe, at first, but then we—look, it's personal. And I never thought he'd take it out on anyone else."

Marla narrowed her eyes, thinking. She was aware of vampire territoriality, but this did seem a little extreme. She had to wonder what else was going on. In the meantime, though, she sat down beside the distraught young woman, put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Lucky. We're all upset over this."

"Upset?" Lucky snorted. "Right. Sam cares about me, and I may have gotten him sent to his death. Yeah, I think that qualifies as upsetting."

"Welcome to my world, sweetheart. I spend my life patching up broken freshies to send them back to the monsters." Marla grimaced. Painful, but there it was. One of these days, something would be too much, and she'd tell Slade he could shove this cushy job, and strike out on her own. Yeah, sure she would.

"They aren't monsters."

"They sure as hell can be."

They sat in silence for awhile, chewing on that. Finally, Lucky spoke, a question so low Marla had to strain to hear it.

"So what do we do?"

The older woman shrugged. "We go on, sweetheart. We do the best we can, and we go on."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The cell phone rang just before midnight. That surprised Lucky, and she grabbed groggily for it on the bedside table. She'd expected an hour or two more grace, before he called, if he called, and even though she'd cried herself out long before, she still wasn't sure what to say to Josef. Or what he'd say to her. She hit the button to answer. "Hey."

His response was unexpected. "What's wrong, doll?"

"Josef. It's good to hear your voice."

"Glad to know it, but you're evading."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Have I ever been able to stop you?"

She thought she heard a hint of a smile in his voice, but they both knew his answer had been disingenuous. "You're a busy man, and important man. Why do you bother so much with us, with me?"

"Maybe I like to play with my food."

"It's a serious question."

Josef snorted. "Sweetheart, I defy you to find any man—one who likes women—who wouldn't want to spend a little time talking to a pretty girl dressed in a satin nightgown. Speaking of, what color are you wearing tonight?"

"Garnet."

"Garnet. Haven't seen that one yet. Sounds…enticing. No one lives in satin the way you do, doll."

"Thanks, but—"

"But you're still dodging the question. I can tell you've been crying, Luck, it's in your voice. So give."

"I'm not sure it's anything I can talk to you about."

"Try me. I can be remarkably open-minded."

"I—damn, Josef, this is hard." She could hear her voice was close to breaking again, now that she tried to speak. "Maybe I did a bad thing."

Josef's answer was succinct. "Somehow I doubt it."

"Marla tells me I did."

"In the course of my acquaintanceship with Marla, she has impressed me as about the last person whose opinion ought to carry any weight. With you or anyone else. And what is this terrible crime you're supposed to have committed?"

Lucky gulped. "I may have gotten Sam Logan killed," she said.

"Sam Logan? That freshie boy?"

"Yes."

"He's dead?"

"I don't know. Probably not—not yet. But they dragged him away. Sent him back home, and it was too soon, and, oh, Josef, his vamp, she does horrible things to him."

"And this is your fault how?"

Lucky paused, unwilling to go on.

Josef waited patiently for a bit, then said, "Tell me. And don't even think about trying to lie to me, doll."

"Josef, Marla—Marla said it was my fault for getting you involved. That it was all on your orders."

The vampire uttered an oath in a language the freshie couldn't identify. She wished she could have seen his face, so often a better gauge of his emotions than his voice. There was a silence that seemed to stretch on for hours, though Lucky knew it was probably only a few seconds. When Josef spoke again, his voice was very gentle.

"You've talked to the boy since I was there, haven't you?"

"Yes. He sat across the table from me at a meal."

"And he mentioned me?"

"He—he said you visited him. You scared him, Josef. He wouldn't have done anything to go against you. He wouldn't have dared."

"Then I want you to ask yourself one thing, babe. I got up from your side to go intimidate him. If I simply meant to have him disposed of, would I have wasted time I could have spent with you?"

This time, Lucky was the silent one, digesting the response. There was nothing there she could argue with, nothing she could question. Josef let it sink in for a few more seconds.

"Lucky, we're not done here, but I need to make a call or two. Don't go to sleep on me." He didn't wait for her agreement or goodbyes.

When the phone rang again, half an hour later, Josef started by coming to the point. "Lucky, tell me what you're doing right now."

"Talking on the phone with you," she replied promptly.

"Yes, but where? In a chair, on the sofa, in bed?"

"In bed. Under the covers. Nights here are cold, Josef." In truth, she'd been pacing the room, staring out the terrace doors into the brilliant night sky above the looming blackness of the mountains until a few minutes before, but the chill of the evening had driven her to the shelter of her blankets.

"Tell me how you're lying. Back? Side?" His voice was no-nonsense, businesslike, even if the question was hardly crucial, as far as she could tell.

"Josef, are we playing one of your games?"

"Sounds that way. Are you going to answer my last question?"

"In a minute. Why now?"

Josef sighed softly and she heard him take a drink. The sound of him swallowing sent a shiver of desire running down her spine. "Sweetheart, if you were here, what would you be wanting tonight? After all this distress?"

What she really wanted were answers, particularly to the question, "is Sam safe?" She knew better than to introduce the topic, however, so she replied slowly, "I don't know. To be comforted. To feel you feeding on me."

The vampire took another drink. "Before you ask, blood and scotch." He paused. "You do know that if I could, I'd have you in my lap right now, with my fangs in your skin. I'm damned if I know why you find that comforting, but I can certainly live with it."

"Maybe it just lets me know that I'm needed."

Josef was silent for a long moment, then said softly. "I know, Lucky, I know."

Lucky found her eyes filling with tears, again. She had to keep from breaking down, she thought. "In answer to your question, I'm lying on my side, Josef," she said. However he intended to divert her, she was in need of it now.

"Hmm, if I know you, curled up tight in a little ball." Josef sounded amused. She wondered a little about his comment, but supposed he'd looked in on her asleep from time to time.

"Have I mentioned that it's cold here?"

"All right, Lucky, here's what I want you to do." He took a drink, picturing the scene himself. If this was going to work, he had to see it as clearly as she did. "Close your eyes."

"All right."

His voice was low, hypnotic. "I want you to listen, just listen to me, hear my voice. I'm right there, whispering in your ear, you can feel the air move, feel the cool breath of my words." She thought she could listen to him for hours, would gladly do so, and had no thought of rebelling against the steady tones that insinuated themselves past her consciousness directly into the back of her brain. Whatever that voice told her, she would believe. It was impossible to resist. "Now, slowly, stretch out those pretty long legs. Slide them down between the sheets, as far as you can. I'm lying right behind you, Lucky, can you feel me there? Feel my chest against your back, my legs behind your legs. The whole length of my body against yours."

Doing as instructed, she stretched, luxuriated in the soft sheets. And as she reached full extension, she did feel as though there were a solid presence behind her. She leaned back slightly against him, so glad of the sensation of his cool skin against hers. Her eyes snapped open in astonishment. "I feel you," she whispered. "How are you doing this?"

"Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. Just keep your eyes closed and listen." Josef took a sip of his drink. He could almost see the ghostly shape of the mortal woman there with him, almost feel her shimmering life force before him. "Curl back up, just a little. Let me feel that sweet behind snuggling up to me."

She didn't answer, but his sensitive ears picked up the sound of sheets rustling softly, and the gentlest of sighs. In his mind's eye, he could see her relaxing, that inexplicable sense of serenity in his presence he often got from her beginning to suffuse through him.

"Can you feel my arms around you, Lucky? Can you feel me holding you, protecting you from the night?" Almost without thought, his thumb began to describe circles against his forefinger.

Maybe it was the bond between them, the blood he had taken from her in the past, but she felt him, felt the reassuring strength of his embrace. Her tension was flowing away, lost in the currents between them. "Josef, I can almost feel your touch on my throat, over my pulse, just a light stroke."

"Tell me about it."

"It's how you do, you know? Just a slow circle, on my throat, right over my scars. You know it makes me melt." Lucky felt a little heat in her face, wondered if she was blushing.

"I had noticed." Josef's voice held only dry amusement. He looked down at his hand, the slight movement of his thumb continuing as he watched it, thinking about the soft skin he had caressed so often. Lucky's throat, those of others, a parade stretching back in time even as they stretched and preened under his touch. He wasn't sure what made it bearable, what made him go on, were it not for the all too rare times when his emotions were caught. He tried to think of his freshies as food only, but it was difficult. Some years, more than others. He'd had enough of this blood diluted with scotch that sat by his hand. He needed to feed, and he needed to feel the reality of flesh beneath his fangs. Now. "Lucky," he said, "sweetheart, will you sleep?"

"Yes," she said, voice drowsy. "Josef?" He waited for the question he knew she wanted to ask, but she only said, "Thank you."

"One last thing," the vampire said. "For now, your friend Sam is…safe."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The salad was beautiful. Fat blackberries nestled among crisp field greens with toasted almonds, chunks of goat cheese, and strips of grilled chicken. The citrus-y balsamic vinaigrette was perfectly balanced to suit the dish, but Lucky found herself uninterested in doing more than picking idly at it. Her usual tactic of losing herself in a book to take her mind off eating didn't seem to be working. Fact of the matter was, she missed Sam. There'd been a lot of buzz and chatter in the dining room today, more than usual, and she knew that any other day, Sam would have been sliding into a chair opposite her with a lazy grin, telling her all the gossip. She missed having someone to talk to. It seemed the only person now who wanted to talk to her was Marla, and that was a real non-starter as far as cordial conversation went.

She could just hear it now. "So, Marla, want to lie to me about Josef some more? Do tell." Yeah, right.

Determined to put it all out of mind and make another assault on that salad, Lucky put down her book. Her blood tests were getting progressively better, and if she could only force herself to eat a bit better—and a bit more—she really should be able to get back home soon. She raked a force through the greens and speared a blackberry. One blackberry shouldn't be so hard. Then maybe a bite of grilled chicken. Why did they make these salads so vast?

Lucky was still staring down dubiously at her plate when she realized the chatter had stopped, every voice cutting off at once.

Carmencita Diaz, her long belled sleeves not quite concealing the white bandages on her wrists, had returned to the Posada. She'd changed, Lucky thought. The placid air of entitlement, the arrogant self-confidence, had vanished. Her circle of cronies had gone, and while many of those women were present, not one rose and rushed to her side. Lucky watched as Carmencita looked at her hostess, her face uncertain, hesitating at the door of the dining room.

Sometime in the days she'd been gone, Carmencita's previous hostess had left the Posada. Lucky blinked, with a sudden thought that she hoped the woman had left. It was possible a failure like that might have cost the woman far more than her job. Lucky put that idea out of her mind. Apparently now the task of keeping Carmencita alive, and on the road to health, had fallen to Marla. She couldn't think of a better person for the responsibility. Dear Marla really needed to take care of another problem child.

Marla urged the girl forward to a small table not far from where Lucky sat. After Marla had settled her in and bustled away, Carmencita looked around the room at the others staring silently at her. No one seemed to want to meet her eyes, and one by one they turned back to their meals, a low hum of whispering voices rising in a gradual crescendo.

Lucky grimaced. She'd never liked Carmencita, but she hated to see anyone look so stricken. She sighed, picked up her salad, tucked her book under her arm, grabbed her iced tea, and went to Carmencita's table.

"Mind if I join you?" Lucky smiled crookedly. "Please say it's okay, because otherwise I'm really going to look like a jackass."

Carmencita looked a little stunned, but nodded.

Lucky made as much of a production as possible of sitting down and arranging her napkin and plate. She had no idea what to say to the other woman. Somehow, "I'm sorry your vamp got killed, but hey, at least your suicide attempt was unsuccessful," seemed a trifle insensitive, even if it was accurate. Josef would probably come up with something even snarkier, but she'd somehow neglected to wear her "What Would Josef Do" bracelet this morning. Finally, she surveyed the room, intercepting several covert glances in their direction, and snorted. "Don't pay any attention to them," she said. "You know how freshies can be. Especially when they get bored, and this place…well."

Carmencita nodded, a ghost of a smile touching her expression. "Needlepoint classes. Don Diego wanted me to take needlepoint classes," she said, then snapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh." Her sudden pain was unmistakable.

Lucky felt her own heart constrict at the expression and on impulse, she reached out to touch Carmencita's hand. "Let's get out of here," she offered. "We can always get them to bring some food to my room, if you're hungry."

"Why are you being nice to me now?" Carmencita asked. "We barely talked, before."

Not sure how to answer, Lucky shrugged. "Seems to me you're in a tough spot. And I've been a little lonely. I thought we might help each other."

"I thought Sam Logan was your great good friend." There was more suspicion in the statement than Lucky wanted to hear, but she supposed Carmencita had a point.

"He was a friend." She looked down, pleating her napkin between her fingers. "But he's not here anymore."

"I thought—was he ready to go home?" Carmencita asked, puzzled.

"No, but—it's complicated. Things got—it's just complicated."

The other woman studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Things get that way. Too often." She threw her napkin on the table. "Thanks. Let's get out of here."

Lucky had to admire the way Carmencita left the dining room—head up, her former arrogance replaced with a quieter dignity. She wavered once, out of physical weakness, and Lucky was there to steady her.

Sinking onto the couch in Lucky's room, Carmencita looked around with an appraising eye. "This is," she said, "one of the nicer rooms I have seen here."

"Really?" was the careless reply. "I supposed they were all pretty much the same."

Carmencita narrowed her eyes, as though studying some aspect of the view. "You're kidding, right? Everything with the vampires—it's all about status and displays of power, you know. My old room, I thought it was the best here, but now, I think this one, this one is a little better. The one I'm in now, it's not so nice. No patio, no—the mountains are very pretty from here, aren't they?"

"Yes. My—my patron is very generous with me."

"I had thought, the way you dress, that he was perhaps not so powerful. Lucky, I know it's rude of me to ask, but who is your vampire?"

The other freshie crossed her arms defensively. "It's not that important, surely. He likes a low profile."

"But he must be," Carmencita stopped herself, waving a hand. "Forgive me. I should not ask. I just—I was worried you would be nothing but questions. And then gossip. I have caused enough talk, and I was told that was a bad thing. And here am I…all questions myself." She paused, slipping off her shoes and carefully tucking up her feet under her on the couch. When she continued, her softly accented voice was more tentative than Lucky had heard it before. "You want to hear my story? It's good to have someone who understands."

Lucky sat down in the chair facing her. "I know what you mean. Even here, not everyone understands." She hesitated a moment. "Sometimes I think almost no one understands."

Carmencita nodded. "You speak as though you care for him, like he is important to you. It is right, that we should love our vampires, you know."

"It's impossible for me to imagine a world without him," Lucky allowed. "I tried, when I heard your news…I can't do it."

"Until a few days ago, I would have said the same thing myself. You have to understand, it was the way of my family for generations, to serve Don Diego. It was all that we knew, all that we ever expected to know."

"I'd heard you were hereditary—in a hereditary contract, I mean, but I never understood how that worked."

"Ah. How it worked. Well." Carmencita paused to gather her thoughts, trying to decide where to start. "I have known Don Diego all my life, you know. He was our _padrone_, he visited our house many times when I was a child, and we went to many gatherings in his home. I remember he held me on his knee, when I was very small. He favored me even then, and he told me that I was a pretty child, and when I grew up into a pretty woman, he would hold me again. I threw my arms around his neck, and asked him if I would be his sweetheart then. He laughed, and told me I was already his."

"Did you know, at that age? What he was?" Lucky leaned forward, intrigued.

"Oh, no, of course not. He was just—Don Diego."

"And you didn't notice that he never aged?"

Carmencita shook her head. "You know how it is—to a child, everything is eternal, and every adult is impossibly ancient."

"That's true enough. So, when did they tell you?"

"It was right at the time of my _quinceañera_. My fifteenth birthday party. I had the grandest one of the year. Even my cousin, who had hers two months earlier, was completely outshone. She hated me for that for a long time. But you know later, we became sisters, and it was not so important.

"I remember, Mama and my grandmama explained it all to me. We sat down, in our living room, on the good sofa, one of them on either side of me, holding my hands, so that I would not fear. So that I knew from the time I was fifteen, that I was chosen."

"He fed on you, from fifteen?"

"No, no. Of course not. He always says, he doesn't want to kiss children, stick figures. He wants his women to be women, you know? But after I was fifteen, I began to spend time with him, evenings, weekends. Learning the ways of his house, learning how to behave. He used to send me into a corner, to do my homework. He used to call us the roses in his garden, and said he wished to cultivate us.

"And my mother—I want to tell you about my mother. She served Don Diego for seven years, as he required her, and at the end of that time, he called her to him one day, and asked her if she had served him faithfully and well. She told him that she had served him faithfully, with her whole heart and her blood, but that he would have to judge the quality of that service. And he told her that he was satisfied, and that he would not release her from his service, but that if she was agreeable, he had found a man, a man he thought worthy of one of his treasures. He wanted her to marry this man, and bear him strong sons to carry his name, and beautiful daughters to continue the way of the women of the Diaz family, and sustain Don Diego through the long years of his existence. And she agreed, and that is how my mother met my father, and wed him, and came a virgin to her marriage bed with him.

"When they explained everything to me, they told me that I had a choice, to continue in the tradition of my family, and that if I so chose, I would be richly rewarded, pampered, cared for. If I chose not to follow my mother's path, then I would bring shame to the family, and be outcast. It was no choice, though, because all my life, my heart had belonged to Don Diego, and to be with him, that was my desire. I would have dishonored my family, I think, for Don Diego, but that was not necessary. I never thought of anything but that my future would be with him, that I would serve him as my mother had, and my sister, and my aunts, and my grandmother, and her grandmother, and all the generations for so long, and that in time my daughters would go to him, and my granddaughters, and their granddaughters. He was forever, and my family was forever.

"And now they tell me he is dead, and I must go to another vampire. I do not know him, and they ask me to trust my life to him, and someday to trust my daughters to him. I cannot do this, even if it shames my family."

She fell silent, and for a minute, Lucky could not think of a thing to say. Then curiosity got the better of her. "Carmencita. Forgive me if I ask too many questions, but, do you know what vampire has your contract now? Was that who told you you'd caused too much talk?"

The other woman shook herself out of her thoughts. "What? No…I don't know. When I woke up in the hospital, I was terrified. They had my wrists restrained. And there was a man there."

"A vampire?"

"I don't think so. A lawyer, he said."

"Ah, the other kind of bloodsucker." Lucky smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but Carmencita looked at her blankly. "Sorry. Bad joke."

"He didn't tell me much. Just that I was to get well, and that my future was in doubt, if I made myself more the fool. He told me the present holder of my contract might wish to sell it, or make other arrangements. I protested, that was not possible…he told me not to be stupid. That a freshie of my beauty and experience was worth a great deal. I had not thought, ever, that such a thing was possible. I think he must be powerful, my new vampire. But he does not care so much for me, as Don Diego did. How could he? He does not know me."

Lucky bit her lip. She knew better than to offer empty reassurances. Maybe once she would have, but not after what she'd learned from Sam. "Did the lawyer tell you anything about him? Anything at all?

"He said I would find out when the time was right. That he was sure if I behaved myself, my vampire would be very pleased with me. Then he stroked my cheek. As though he had some right. What could I do? My hands were tied. I should have spit at him."

"My God, Carmencita! That's terrible." Lucky was appalled. She'd never heard of a freshie contract being negotiable. "What are you going to do?"

Carmencita stared out the window, her eyes bleak, her hands unconsciously stroking the bandages on her wrists. "I don't know. Stay here until my—my vampire sends for me—I do not even know his name. All I have is the address of his lawyer, and I suppose that is the city of my new home."

"He's not in Miami? I'd thought—"

"No," Carmencita said. "The card the lawyer gave me, the address is in Los Angeles."


	13. Chapter 13

"Los—Los Angeles?" Lucky heard her voice rise, much as she tried to keep it under control. Being friendly with Carmencita here at the Posada was one thing. But she only knew of a few vamps in L. A. who kept exclusives in any style, and as for anyone who would be willing—and able—to lay out the kind of money it would take to support an hereditary. What could she think, but that Josef…she knew she was jumping to conclusions. She didn't know every major player in Los Angeles, even if the ones at Josef's private conferences were the pillars of vamp society. She had a sudden vision of Carmencita at Josef's house, in Josef's arms, enchanting him with her exotic beauty, charming him with her pretty speeches, making the rest of them miserable with her damned smug assurance that he would require her blood, and that of "her daughters, and her granddaughters, and their granddaughters."

Lucky's lunch suddenly felt like a stone in her stomach. "I live in Los Angeles," she said.

Carmencita brightened. "Oh, then perhaps we can be friends there, yes? I had been thinking, perhaps, since I do not know this vampire, that I should just break my contract and walk away." She tossed her head, with a trace of the old arrogance. "What is he to me? But if I do that, since there is no legacy from Don Diego, the money is not so good now, and my brothers need education to make their way in the world….it is very hard, to leave what you have always known. Very hard."

"I can see that."

"Perhaps," Carmencita said, "you think I am putting my sorrows behind me too quickly, but if I cannot go to be with my beloved Don Diego, I must mourn in private, and make what I can of my life. It is harsh, but it is what my mother would tell me."

Lucky looked away, out the window. The afternoon was clouding over. "I think that no one who knows this life, thinks it easy. We give so much more than just blood."

Carmencita nodded. She stared down at her demurely folded hands, silent for awhile, before she spoke. "We were so protected, my family, but everything has changed. And I have to change as well. I was thinking of myself only, but now I need to be strong for my family. It is a new life. And perhaps, if our vampires are friends, we will see each other frequently."

"Yes, I—I'm sure we will. Lucky tried to force her expression into a semblance of a smile, but she could tell it was a miserable failure. "Carmencita, I'm sorry, but I've had the worst headache come on just now. Can we talk again later?"

"Of course. Forgive me, I've wearied you with my troubles. You look pale." She rose. "Maybe we can find out the name of this so-mysterious new vampire of mine, yes? He will never replace Don Diego, for me, but if I have been taught one thing, it is that we must go on. No matter what happens, we must go on. And Lucky, thank you. The hand of friendship is a valuable thing. I have learned a great deal, today."

Lucky shook her head. "De nada, Carmencita." She thought her throbbing temples might explode. "It's been most interesting." She kept the smile pasted on until Carmencita was out the door.

**

"Josef, I have a problem."

The ancient vampire frowned. "Now why is it that whenever someone says that to me, what I hear is 'Josef, I'd like to make my problem, your problem'?"

His visitor sighed and ran a distracted hand through his dark curls. "This is serious. I need advice."

Josef echoed the sigh, and indicated that they should take a seat at a small conference table nearby. He could tell it was one of those evenings when he wasn't going to get any actual work done. "All right, all right. Your problem is my problem, my friend." He let his hand hover over an intercom to security, and quirked his eyebrows up. "I'm assuming, however, that it's not the kind of problem that carries the threat of imminent violence with it?"

"No, no, I don't think so."

"In that case, tell me your troubles."

When it came to the point of explanation, the other vampire hesitated. He wanted to phrase it carefully, to make his problem clear. "A few years ago, I did a favor for someone. Took on a debt. He promised to repay me when he could. I wrote it off, you know? He had a lot of debts and not much juice."

"I'm not a debt collector. Get someone else to repo his freezer."

"That's not the problem."

"Then snap it up. I'm getting bored." Josef drummed his fingers on his desk to emphasize his point.

He took a deep breath. "It's Tommaso Rivera."

"Miami?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's come into some property lately, I hear."

"Property, yes. Cash, not so much. For someone on a blood diet, the late Don Diego didn't have a lot of liquid assets."

"So get him to deed you some real estate. You can afford to wait out the housing slump," Josef said.

"No, wait. Listen. He paid the debt. He gave me the contract on a hereditary freshie."

The two vampires stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. It was early, and the twilight gloom was still deepening. At length, Josef found he was unable to suppress his grin.

"You?" he said, "and a hereditary freshie?"

"Yeah."

"I have to admit it's an interesting concept. But really, what's the big problem?"

"Oh, come on, you know me, man. Do you really see me with…with a…?"

Josef sobered. "Most vamps your age would see it as a nice piece of stability and human contact."

The other vampire rose and began to pace. "I can't have her hanging around my place, Josef. It'd never work. You know that."

He shrugged. "Then void the contract."

"You'd throw a puppy out in the snow, wouldn't you?"

"In a heartbeat, if I had one. Look, my friend, you know what the choices are. Keep her—and a good portion of her family, no doubt—in the style to which she is unquestionably accustomed, void the contract, or sell it to someone else."

He shook his head. "I'm not comfortable with selling humans."

Josef looked vaguely irritated. "I knew you had a soft spot for the mortal ones, but you accepted delivery."

"That was my first mistake."

"No, your first mistake was getting mixed up with Tommaso Rivera. This just follows."

"I don't suppose you'd be in the market?"

"Heh. No, I don't think so." Josef paused. "What's the matter? Is she—unappealing?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I have the impression she was one of Don Diego's pets, and Tommaso didn't want to have to watch his back every day. But I haven't seen her yet. The contract came by courier."

"So where is she?"

"Do I hear interest?"

"Purely academic, my friend."

"She's stashed at some freshie rehab place in Colorado. Tommaso sent one of his lawyers out to give her the word."

"Gracious of him. And I think now I understand an email I got earlier today." Josef was smiling, but his expression was enigmatic.

"How's that?"

"Because every problem in this town turns into my problem. Sooner or later."

His guest shook his head, lost. "Whatever. So what do we do?"

"Oh, no. What do you do? Up to you. What I do is damage control."

"You've been a great help, Josef. As always." His soulful eyes were troubled. "Looks like I have some decisions to make."

"Yes, you do." Josef paused, and turned away, smiling to himself. "Now that I think about it, this could be fun."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

7:57. Lucky looked at the tiny numerals in the lower right hand of her screen, silently urging them to change. Her internet time started at 8 p.m., after days of being scheduled for the 2-4 afternoon slot, and there was every chance that for once, she'd be on when Josef was up and online. 7 p.m. Pacific wasn't too unreasonable to expect him to be awake. She'd made a point of dining early, not wanting to miss a minute of her limited time. She drummed her fingers.

7:58. Come on. Three days since her suspicions about Carmencita's new vamp had begun to bloom, three days since she'd sent Josef that oh-so-carefully worded e-mail. And nothing. Not a call, not a word, nothing. She could cry. She had cried, late into the night, sleeping with her cell phone in her hand as though it were a magical talisman. She'd wanted—badly—to bombard him with a dozen emails, leave him offline IM's until he was forced to respond.

7:59. She'd restrained herself, though. She knew he read his personal e-mail, and if he hadn't answered, frantic follow-ups would get her nothing. She scowled at her monitor. I could teach that sorry son of a bitch a thing or two about control, she thought, then regretted it immediately. When Marla had asked after her, noticing Lucky was not eating, she'd nearly bitten off the hostess's head. She had no use for anyone. If only she could talk to Josef.

8:00. At last. Lucky clicked open the login window and signed on, so anxious she mistyped her username once, and her password twice. The fourth time, she forced herself to take a deep breath, slow down and hit each key in the sequence very carefully, finally rewarded with the news that J'sLucky was logged into the system. About ten seconds later, she was scrolling down her accumulated email, searching for one from theboss at kostanindustries (dot)com. Nothing. A quick login to IM showed him as offline, although she did go so far this evening as to say "hi" just in case he was there, but invisible. There was no answer, and, dispirited, Lucky flipped back to her e-mail. A few messages from friends, but none of Josef's other exclusives had written her. A dozen junk mailings from various catalog and online vendors. Nothing of the slightest interest. Three Facebook friend requests; two of them mentioned mutual friends on , and she accepted those at once. The third…Desiree Simmons had left a message.

"_Hi, Lucky, I'd love to be your friend. I'm sure we have lots in common. I love reading, star-gazing, and lounging in a hot tub. Desiree." _

Lucky hit the button to view Desiree's profile at once. The page was minimal, and contained no identifying information whatsoever. Paging back, she accepted the invite, and chose to send a message trying desperately to think of something she could say without tipping her hand. Nothing much was coming to mind. Finally, she messaged back,

"_Desiree, you sound like a fun friend. Glad to hear from you. –Lucky"_

That sent, she pulled up her other two new friends and sent them very similar messages. Despite her worries, she had to suppress a slight smile. She knew at least four "Desiree's" back in Los Angeles, but she was morally certain that this was not one of those four. And even though she trusted Josef's word implicitly, and he'd told her Sam Logan was safe, somehow until she'd heard it from the freshie, she didn't quite believe.

Messages sent, she went back to her e-mail, clicking refresh even though no "new mail message" boxes had popped up. Twenty minutes into her two hours, and nothing yet.

She thought about the bright, chatty little e-mail message she had all written up to send to him, the one that mentioned in passing how she and Carmencita Diaz had grown to be great friends over the past few days. And how summer seemed to be ending, and the aspen leaves were starting to turn. She tried to imagine the Posada's grounds and buildings covered with snow. It would happen all too soon, she supposed, and she didn't want to be there to see it. Already the evenings were cooler, and her ruana was not adequate to keep her warm when she paced her patio at night, looking up at the same night sky that covered Josef in L.A. She knew he didn't spend much time staring at the stars, but she figured the stars had spent plenty of time watching him.

Lucky roused herself from her reverie and hit refresh again. A new message. Her heart leapt, but it was from Facebook: "Desiree Simmons has sent you a message." Better than nothing, she supposed, and opened it.

"_Lucky—It's so good to have a new friend. I just changed jobs, and being alone in a new town really sucks, you know? Looking forward to hearing from you soon. –Desiree."_

Now that was interesting news. Josef had been jealous of her relationship with Sam, she was sure of it. And yet, if this really was Sam—and she had little doubt of it—then Josef must've extended considerable influence on his behalf. She typed in,

"_Desiree—I know how lonely that can be, but I'm sure you'll make friends soon. Makes me glad I love my job, though! Hope your boss is as nice as mine.—Lucky."_

8:43 and no word yet from Josef. She stood and paced to the window, feeling more bereft than she ever had before. After a few minutes, staring out into the chill darkness, her arms wrapped around herself, she turned back to her desk. She hit refresh, without much hope.

The top line of her inbox read, theboss at kostanindustries (dot)com... re:Missing You. The message was brief, but somehow it reassured her.

"_Hey doll, I'm concerned about your last message. Will call you later. Wear the aquamarine satin tonight. J."_

&&

One building over, Marla was watching Lucky's internet activity, although gallingly, she could not see the contents of the emails to and from the Kostan Industries accounts. She was sure the Facebook messages were more than they appeared, but they were so innocuous, there was nothing she could grab onto.

She checked Carmencita's connection, but the freshie was spending her time im'ing with her cousin Sasha, who seemed to be dominating the conversation with gripes about the shortcomings of her new boyfriend Tommaso. Marla knew exactly how to interpret that, and it was something to keep an eye on. Then again, maybe hearing about the vamp who'd divested himself of her contract might shut down a few of Carmencita's lamentations concerning her own circumstances.

The ringing of her phone distracted her from her surveillance. She wondered what new crisis had arisen. Then she looked at the display, and blanched, flipping the phone open with trembling hands.

"Slade?" she said.

"Well, darlin', it's about hit the fan now, hasn't it?" Weston's dark irony sent a chill down her spine.

"What do you mean? Slade, I swear nothing's happened here." Marla's hands felt clammy.

"Nothing new?"

"No, everything's been quiet," she said. "Carmencita's been making friends with Lucky Alexander, and the two of them have kept to themselves."

"No offsite communications?"

"Alexander gets emails from Kostan, that's about it. Nothing else to speak of."

Slade snatched at that. "What's she telling him? Or better yet, what's he telling her?"

Marla dug her nails into the arm of the chair, her face furious. "I don't know. I'm not a hacker, Slade, and they're using his company email. How am I supposed to get into that?"

"Your problem, not mine. But it does seem like you're less on top of things than you might be."

"Fine. Great. Know of any ex-freshie hackers in need of a job?"

"Don't get snippy with me, Marla," the vampire drawled.

She suppressed a shiver. There were not nearly enough mountains between them. "I'm sorry, Slade," she whispered.

"Whatever, darlin'. This isn't a social call."

"Yes, Slade." She waited, knowing he'd tell her in his own good time. It didn't take long.

"Some things are going to be changing around your little kingdom, Marla," he said. "For one thing, the Board has decided they've been a tad too laissez faire."

"Oh?" Marla tensed. More vamp involvement was about the last thing she needed.

"For starters, there's going to be a Board meeting on site. We'll be arriving tomorrow evening."

"On site? Vamps? Here? But—"

"Sweetheart, do I hear you objecting to the owners visiting?"

"I'm sorry, Slade, it's just been the rule for so long." She paused. "It's hard to process."

He laughed shortly. "Get used to it. I don't know what all the Board will decide, but the place is stinking for change. And Marla, tell the Diaz girl, one of the gentlemen coming for the board meeting is her new vampire. She needs to be ready to meet him. And you need to be ready to host the Board. You can do that, can't you?" He cut the connection before she could protest further.

Marla put down the phone, and very deliberately pulled out a bottle of bourbon she kept stashed in her desk, for emergencies. This was a time for it, if ever there was one, she thought.

&&

Josef had worn an amused smile since he'd logged out of his personal email account. That ought to have her stewing nicely, he thought. He supposed it was a little cruel to torture the poor freshie, but if she was going to assume that he'd take on an hereditary contract sight unseen, she deserved a bit of teasing. He completed a leisurely review of current business needing his attention, and caught a bite from one of his "preferred provider" freshies before leaving the office. He was a little short of exclusives these days, and even if the others more than took up the slack, he did need to think about expanding his options. No hurry, though, he decided as he drove through the quiet midnight streets. It wasn't as if he were going hungry.

He glanced at his watch, as he strode into his study, loosening his tie. It was time to give Lucky a call. He'd made her wait until almost 1:30 am, MDT. Sure enough, she answered before the first ringtone cycle had finished.

"Josef." Okay, he'd have to admit he loved to hear the tones of devotion in her voice. It pleased him, he could hardly deny it.

"Waiting for my call, doll?"

He heard a catch in her breath. "Always."

Josef settled back in his easy chair. The leather of it, rich and slick under his fingers, complemented the heavy crystal hardness of the Baccarat highball glass that held his blood and scotch. He took a sip, and as innocently as he could manage, he asked, "So tell me, sweetheart, something's troubling you. What is it?"

Lucky hesitated, not wanting to whine. "It's nothing, Josef. Really it's nothing."

"And lying to me became an option, when?"

He heard a rustle, as she curled up in her bed. "I miss Los Angeles. I miss my life."

"Keep trying," Josef urged, "you're getting closer." He sipped again.

"All right, fine," she said. "I miss you. Happy now?"

"Happier. That's not the whole truth, but we can work with it." He paused, listening to her breathing. It was getting faster, shallower. "Tell me about your satin."

"Josef, you picked it out. You know what it looks like."

"Is that color good with your skin?"

"Aquamarine? That's not really my call, but yes, I think so." She was calming a little, with more ordinary conversation.

"Well, I'll look forward to seeing it on you, babe."

"Me, too." But her voice wasn't inviting. It was small, hopeless.

This, he didn't like. She was too meek, too anxious. Too close to tears. "Lucky, doll, you're starting to worry me."

"I don't mean to. This place, Josef. It gets to you, after awhile. It's a prison. I just…I don't think it's healthy." Lucky bit her lip.

Josef allowed a tone of mild reproof to enter his voice. "They've been taking care of freshies for decades. Do you think we don't know what's good for our donors?"

There was a long pause. "Josef, you know I intend no disrespect…but what's good for our blood isn't always what's best for our hearts. Or our heads."

The vampire didn't answer at once. He listened to Lucky's small movements, to her breathing. She'd managed to unsettle him, more than he'd planned. He sipped his drink, still unwilling to tell her that her real worries were groundless. He was looking forward to the next act of the farce a little too much, but he found he couldn't leave her this way.

Nevertheless, in the end, he failed to offer the comfort she needed, saying only, "I understand, Lucky. I do understand."

"I hope so."

Josef had a full night planned, and no time to worry about Lucky. The automatic clutch was grabbing a little on the Ferrari, and he wanted to worry about that, not some human. Other than his mechanic, that is. Yet he found himself growing more concerned about this girl, and wondered if he was mellowing in his old age, letting these freshies get so far under his skin. Surely not.


	15. Chapter 15

[i]Disclaimer: I don't own Josef. He thinks he owns freshie Lucky, but I do.[/i]

[color=#0000BF][url=?f=416&t=6445][u]Link to Chapter 14[/u][/url][/color]

[size=150][b]La Posada[/b][/size]

[b]Chapter 15[/b]

Looking up at the mountains, Lucky realized the peaks were gleaming with a fresh white glow. It must've snowed last night, at the higher elevations. Inside the fringed suede jacked she'd chosen to wear over her broomstick-pleated skirt, she shivered a little. The breeze this afternoon was chilly, out here on the exposed front entrance steps of the Posada.

Carmencita, more lightly clad in a dress suited to a Miami club, or a very private party, leaned back against her for support and warmth, but Lucky thought the faint tremors that shook the other young woman were either fear or anticipation, not cold.

They'd been waiting for some time now, for the arrival of the Board members, and of Carmencita's new vamp, standing out with Marla and a selected few of the Posada's staff. Carmencita had begged Marla for the aid of a friend, "for my ordeal," she said. "And Lucky, she is the only friend who would stand with me to meet this man." Marla had agreed, reluctantly, wishing to herself she had the same option.

"But," she had cautioned, "as soon as they arrive, Lucky needs to make herself scarce, understand? There will be no untoward incidents. None."

Carmencita had agreed, and flown off to find Lucky, worrying about what to wear, how to act, what was she to do about the hideous bandages on her wrists? Would he wish to bite her today, in front of the whole world, or what? Don Diego had always been so private about these things, so courtly, but the younger vampires… She had seen things, she had heard things, it was not inconceivable, but how was she to endure the shame of it?

Lucky had no real advice to calm the panic. If she admitted she had some idea who the vampire was, she'd be hip deep in questions she didn't want to be answering. Not now. She could only nod and make sympathetic noises and give vague reassurances.

A gust of wind, sharper than before, swept across the steps, and Carmencita swayed on her heels. Lucky had advised against the strappy sandals. "Don't you want to keep your balance?" but Carmencita insisted that they were needed with the short skirt of her dress.

Marla wasn't noticing the cold, much, as she strained to hear the sound of approaching vehicles. Slade had emailed her to expect six vampires, and to send transportation for them. Appropriate transportation. When she responded that it took 4-wheel drive to make it to the Posada's mountain park, and that they only had one Hummer and two Range Rovers, aside from the entirely unsuitable open-topped Jeep Wranglers, he'd shrugged aside her concerns in a very brief reply.

"We'll share. But send the Hummer and both Range Rovers."

That was the first indication she'd ever had that Slade was on the Board. When she'd sent back a nervous inquiry about catering, his answer did nothing to allay her fears.

"Your attention to detail is late, and misplaced. If you'd needed to worry about that, I'd have told you."

Now, on this chilly late afternoon, she could only hope her frantic preparations had achieved some measure of adequacy. Her job was probably irretrievably blown already, but she might get out of this alive if she was very lucky. That word annoyed her, and she glanced over at the two waiting freshies, frowning. They certainly looked very vamp-attractive, very vulnerable. She caught a flash from Carmencita's gold earrings, and the ruby at Lucky's throat. A thought struck her, and she pivoted to survey the other Posada staff who waited on the steps. They were all, as instructed, in their best, but in at least two cases, that included some of the local, Native-American made turquoise jewelry.

"Darren, Elise, what the hell were you thinking," she hissed.

Startled, they looked away from the road to their manager, eyes questioning.

"Silver," Marla said. "Go and—oh, damn, I hear a motor. Run ditch that jewelry in my office and get back here. Hurry!" Sound carried in the thin, clear air, but they had, she estimated, no more than five minutes before the first vehicle arrived.

Darren and Elise had just made it back to stand attentively, if panting a bit, in their assigned places when the first Range Rover drew up. As it rolled to a smooth stop, a young woman and a young man hopped out to hold the car door for the two vampires to emerge.

Marla's heart stuttered at the sight of the tall, muscled form she had once loved so well. Slade Weston stretched his spine, glanced around him, and stood aside for another man to emerge into the light.

"Well, Philip, what do you think?" Slade asked.

Brushing what had to be imaginary flecks of lint from his immaculate suit, the compact blond replied, "I hardly expected the scenery or the main buildings to have changed their outward appearance much since I was here in '31, Slade. And I find I was not mistaken." His crisp British accent made his words even dryer.

Slade frowned at that, and somehow without discernable movement was standing in front of Marla. "Now, how do you greet us, darlin'?"

She fell back a step, to put a modicum of distance between them. "W-welcome to La Posada de la Sangre de la Noche, gentlemen. Enter and be—be at peace, " she said.

Slade grinned. "Nice try, sweetheart, but I had something a little more direct in mind." He snaked out an arm, his hand sliding behind her neck, and pulled her closer, his other hand moving her shoulder-length hair aside. She saw with a shock that his eyes were making a subtle shift from faded blue to silver. Surely he wouldn't… "It's been a long time, Marla," he said. "Have you forgotten how to—submit?"

As his fangs touched her skin, Marla shuddered. She hadn't forgotten this at all, she thought, even though without preparation, without expectation, the bite was more painful than pleasurable. He took only one long pull at her vein before releasing her with a quick sealing lick at her wounds, and laughed down at her stricken face.

"Still tasty after all these years, darlin'," he said with a swift lick out of the tip of his tongue across his lips. "And now you know—again—who's in charge."

"I never forgot, Slade," she whispered, her hand rising to cover the fresh marks of the bite.

The vampire reached out again and moved her hand, forcing it back down by her side. "That so, darlin'? Then show off those marks, don't hide them." He paused. "Now, where are we meeting?"

Marla never took her eyes off his face. He looked exactly as she remembered, of course, and she felt the burden of her own mortality fall heavy on her then, knowing the years between had touched her while he remained unchanged. She tried to make her voice steady, professional. "We have a conference room prepared—but, Slade, we thought you all might want to freshen up from your journeys. There are rooms set aside for each of you."

Philip's voice cut in. "It sounds as though the woman's done all she can to ensure proper hospitality. Perhaps if you're through intimidating her, we could get somewhere a little less exposed?"

As he spoke, Marla stepped aside, further from Slade, and gestured to two of her staff. "Of course, Mr.—?"

"Lewis. Philip Lewis." He inclined his head slightly to her, a fluid, practiced movement.

She smiled and nodded, knowing it was far from natural at this point. "I do recognize the name. From Seattle, am I correct?"

"Actually, I base out of Vancouver now, but close enough." He smiled in return and took her hand briefly in his chill grasp. "I," he added pointedly for Slade's benefit, "have always had good reports of the Posada from my freshies."

"Thank you. Under the circumstances, that's very good to hear."

She thought he was about to say more, but another vehicle, the second Range Rover, pulled up just then, disgorging more guests. Without waiting for them, Slade clapped Philip Lewis on the shoulder and the two vampires, with their assistants (snacks, pets, whatever) in tow, followed Elise inside.

The second greeting went more smoothly. If Marla was a bit pale and shaken, she covered it well, formally welcoming a massive, red-haired Viking who doffed his sunglasses to reveal piercing blue eyes, and a deceptively youthful-looking dark, slender man who moved with the deadly grace of a viper. They disappeared inside without incident.

Carmencita shifted back, leaning harder on Lucky. So far, none of the guests had wasted more than a disinterested glance on them. "I am not sure I can bear this much longer," Carmencita murmured over her shoulder to Lucky.

The other freshie agreed, but only slid her arms around Carmencita's waist in a protective hug. She was torn between hoping for at least a glimpse of Josef and fearing he would step forward to take possession of his new exclusive. His hereditary exclusive. She'd seen him focus in on a new girl with laser intensity before, and she really didn't want to watch it again right now. Especially not if he chose to mark his new freshie immediately.

Lucky bit her lip as the Hummer pulled up, trying in vain to see in the tinted windows. Carmencita stiffened in her arms.

"Please don't desert me," the other girl whispered. "And please, God, let him be kind!"

Lucky didn't recognize the golden-haired human in a neatly tailored suit at first, as he hopped out to hold the door, looking attentively back inside the Hummer. Then it hit her, and the random thought that crossed her mind was, "Sam's cut his hair."

When Josef Kostan stepped down from the SUV, graceful as ever, he nodded to Marla, then turned toward the freshies, dismissing her from his attention even as she spoke the ritual words of greeting. His gaze didn't even seem to register Lucky, as he moved forward to take Carmencita's hand and raise it to his lips. "I'm Josef Kostan. You must be Carmencita Diaz," he said.

Lucky broke and ran. She didn't see Josef turn to the olive-skinned vampire who had emerged unnoticed from the Hummer, squinting behind his sunglasses in the fading afternoon light, and adjusting his unaccustomed suit.

"Carmencita," Josef said, and his wicked smile was not really meant for her, "I know we've just met, but please allow me to introduce you to your new vampire, Guillermo Gasol."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

This has got to be the definition of awkward, Guillermo thought as he trailed behind Carmencita towards the small private lounge Marla had indicated was reserved for them, "to get acquainted" as she'd put it. Not that he didn't find the girl appetizing. That nicely curved figure and a mass of blue-black hair hanging down in soft waves just brushing his hand at the small of her back. And her scent…he'd been subsisting on morgue blood for so long, he'd almost forgotten what it was to feed fresh. He'd been cautioned, of course. She was not fit to be bitten yet, not recovered from her suicide attempt, and he had every intention of being careful with her. Even so, the combination of sensory input was making him increasingly aware of her, as an ache deep in his fangs. She turned her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Guillermo caught not only a fresh wave of scent, but also a flash of the pale, fine skin of her throat.

He had no idea if she would wish to continue her contract. He had no idea of he could afford her upkeep, if she did declare herself willing. Guillermo sighed. Obviously, they had a lot to discuss, and his best move was not to be hanging his tongue out like a lovestruck pup.

Carmencita was not terribly impressed. This vamp, she thought, he had not the presence, the…the stature of her beloved Don Diego. Still, the cool touch of a vampire hand, the first she had felt since her lost one had bid her farewell in Miami, those long weeks ago, stirred something compelling in her. She had not expected that, although, she reflected, she was bred for such things, she should not be surprised.

The light was fading, outside, as they walked into the dimly lit lounge, and the picture window showed the valley already in shadow, even though the mountain peaks were gilded with sunlight.

Guillermo supposed he ought to try and make a little conversation with this girl, put her at ease. He frowned in thought. For so long, his life had revolved around the morgue, and most of the people he talked to were either dead, vampires, or medical personnel. Outside of trips to the movies, and poker nights with some old vamp buddies, really he had led a circumscribed life. When he'd claimed, talking to Mick, some acquaintance with local vamp women, he'd been blowing smoke, and he suspected St. John knew that. Now here he was with that most exotic of creatures, a human woman, and a clued in one at that. One who was used to a high-level, old-school vamp, and all the formalities that went along with that lifestyle. And he had to try and convince her he was not a complete waste of fangs. On the way to Colorado, he'd told himself this was just another stupid situation Tommaso had gotten him into, and that it really didn't matter what happened. Not knowing where to start exactly, he decided to try a neutral topic. "The, uh, the mountains here are very beautiful."

Carmencita shrugged. "Some like them. But it is so cold here, and the air. So thin I can barely breathe, the first few days."

"I—hadn't really noticed."

She giggled, and if it sounded a little forced, neither wished to comment on that. "Of course. How foolish of me." Carmencita gestured toward the couch along the wall facing the window. "Perhaps you would care to sit down?"

Guillermo was staring at the bandage on her wrist, exposed by her belled sleeve when she had lifted her hand. He caught a faint whiff of old blood from the dressing. This was something familiar, something he knew. He was not much accustomed to displaying the fluid, graceful movements of the vampire; although capable of it, usually he tried to practice disguising his nature, even when only the dead were there to see, but now he found himself standing in front of the freshie, his hands loosely grasping her arm, before either of them was fully aware of it.

She gasped slightly, but did not tense or pull away as he pushed back the sleeve and began to examine the bandage with that peculiar intensity of the vampire. "Don't be afraid," he said.

She nodded, even though her arm was trembling as he unwrapped the gauze from her wrist, and ran a blunt finger across the stitches with surprising delicacy of touch.

"I don't know what they told you about me—" he began.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," she whispered.

"I work with the dead, Carmencita. I go for weeks, sometimes, without touching living flesh."

"But wounds and stitches, you know these things well."

He nodded with a crooked smile, stroking her injured wrist. "Yes."

On impulse, she reached up and laid her other hand against his cheek. "If you do not touch the living—how do you survive, if you do not feed properly? Should you not take better care of yourself?"

Guillermo was unexpectedly moved, both by the warmth of her hand on his face, and the honest concern in her voice. It was the last thing he would have anticipated. No wonder Josef seems to find such comfort in his girls, he thought. No wonder. He smiled at Carmencita. "Let's sit down. I think we need to talk."

&&

Josef looked around the conference table, calling the meeting to order by eye. "I'd like to thank you all for making this journey on short notice." He acknowledged each of the other board members with a look or a nod. "Since our last formal meeting was in 1993, I trust no one is feeling overburdened."

Harald Bergman narrowed his bright blue eyes. "I had no desire to leave Chicago, and fail to see the urgent need to meet now, Kostan."

Josef returned him a sour look. "None of us desired to come here, but there are serious questions about the day to day management…and a site visit seemed called for."

"Then dispose of the current managers, and put in new humans." The smaller, dark vampire shrugged. "This is a minor matter."

"Michel." Josef's tone was sharp. He'd never had a great deal of patience with duBois. New Orleans vampires, he thought, buying into their own p.r. "As attractive a philosophy as 'kill them all' can be, it is less than effective as a long-term management strategy. Particularly as a recruitment incentive."

Philip Lewis yawned eloquently behind his hand. "Bored," he said succinctly.

"Another region heard from," Josef replied. He looked over at Slade. "You've got a better grasp of what's been happening here. Comments?"

Slade leaned his chair back with great deliberation, feeling the eyes of the other upon him, and propped his worn cowboy boots up on the table. Not for the first time, he regretted that he no longer needed to wear spurs, but he supposed pissing them off this way was sufficient. At 183, he was the youngest vampire on the Posada's board, and he had to exploit that to his advantage. "As it happens," he drawled, "I do."

"Judging from your greeting to the lovely Marla," Philip said, "I'd think you would vote for the basic change in leadership model."

Slade locked his hands behind his head, smiling up at the ceiling. "Yeah, well, I'm not saying she doesn't have her faults."

"That much is plentifully obvious," Bergman growled.

Straightening up, Slade shot him a look. "However, tell me one thing she's done that was outside what she'd been ordered to do? She deserves a reprimand. Which she has already received."

Josef frowned and snapped his fingers. "I understand that it is contrary to our custom, but I think this might be useful." The door of the conference room opened, and Sam Logan came in, moving like a shadow.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Sam, these gentlemen have a few questions for you."

Sam nodded. He'd learned a few things since he left the Posada. Josef had made sure of that, and he'd been promised he could speak the truth about his experiences at this place without fear, even if he did feel like a mouse in a room full of hungry cats. He took a deep breath and waited for the first question.

&&

Marla crossed her arms, hugging herself, and paced her office, wondering what was going on in the conference room. She wished she'd been clever enough to hide a camera in there, but if it were found, it would seal her fate for good. This was a pleasant office, she thought, that she'd called her own for all these years. The view was spectacular and soothing at the same time, the tranquil ageless majesty of the mountains soaring against a crystalline black night sky. The moon was nearly full tonight, and even if it wouldn't crest the shoulder of the mountain for hours yet, the fulgent glow of its soft light was already visible. And inside…over the years she'd indulged herself, spent some of her salary on the Native American arts that were so prevalent in the area.

In addition to her jewelry, all that silver locked away today, she had a shelf of Hopi kachina dolls, supernatural protectors against evil spirits. Fat lot of good they did her now. And her pottery, so beautiful, so precious to her. The polished, russet Jemez wedding jar, with its two spouts and fanciful bird decoration. A simple bowl of glittering golden micaceous clay from Tesuque pueblo, that the potter told her represented a pure thought in its clean, unadorned lines. The black pottery pieces from Santa Clara and San Ildefonso she'd purchased one by one. She'd miss all this. She picked up a little black clay turtle, running her fingers lightly over the rough designs on its shell. She hadn't looked at it really closely in months, maybe years. It seemed a simple thing, but the art that had gone into shaping it, decorating it, firing it just right to gain that prized black color was complex. Everything was complex. She placed it back on the shelf, carefully.

Who was she kidding? She'd probably be missing breathing, soon enough. One of the silent assistants that had come in with the Board members was stationed motionless outside her door, making sure she didn't try to bolt. She knew the Board hadn't come here for nothing, and she knew she was the one who would get the blame for anything they found unsatisfactory.

Her hand went up unconsciously to the fresh marks on her neck. That might be her only hope, her only chance at survival. Then again, maybe she'd imagined it. Maybe she hadn't really heard Slade whisper in her ear, as his lips brushed by when leaving her neck. Maybe he hadn't said what she thought she heard, so soft that the other vampire nearby couldn't even catch the sound.

"Be strong, darlin'. What I bite, I protect."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Since there are vampires, I hope there are ghosts, too."

Startled, Sam looked at Marla, walking beside him. He wasn't sure which of them had been more taken aback that he'd been detailed to fetch her to the conference room. "What?"

"Because after they kill me, I'm going to haunt you. If at all possible." Marla's voice was low and steady, even if her face was pale.

Sam pursed his lips, thoughtful. "You don't know that. They wouldn't just kill you."

Marla twisted her mouth. "I know vampires. It's the easiest solution for them."

"I don't think Sir would do that."

It was Marla's turn to be startled. "Who?"

Sam ducked his head a little, shy at speaking the name. "Mr. Kostan. Josef Kostan." He paused, and a soft smile curved his mouth. "He saved me."

"He seduced you." Marla snorted. "So you're his freshie now." She knew the signs, she thought. "And if you think he's not a killer, you don't know him very well."

"I'm not stupid, Marla. He's not my first vamp. And if he were so anxious to kill, he'd have killed me the night he met me. He had reason." Sam tossed the blond hair back out of his eyes.

"He's only one of five, Sam."

The door of the conference room was in front of them, and one of the assistants opened it as they walked up.

Josef was deep in conversation with Harald Bergman, the Chicago vampire frowning at whatever Kostan had proposed. Lewis and duBois were similarly engaged, and Weston was again leaned back with his feet propped up, observing his elders. He was looking uncommonly pleased with himself, and Marla wondered uneasily if she was the canary this cat had just swallowed.

Bergman shook his head, the movement disrupting the rich fall of his red hair. "I don't know. It seems chancy to me. Too trusting." He spared a glance at the two humans, and his frown deepened.

Making a dismissive gesture, Josef smirked. "It's not as though we won't have controls in place. You need to change with the times, Harald. You're getting fossilized."

"My ways have served me well enough so far," he grunted.

This time, it was Philip Lewis who brought the meeting to order. "Since the humans are here, can we get on with it?"

"Agreed," Michel responded at once. "Immortality is too precious to waste on meetings."

The vampires returned to their seats, and even Weston sat up, swinging his feet off the table. Marla could see he'd left an ugly scratch in the surface, and frowned, even as she wondered why in the world she should care about such a thing now.

"I think we're all in agreement," Josef said, addressing the other vampires as though the humans in the room were not present, "that the current management of the Posada has not been conducted in the best interests of the guests, and through them, the best interests of the vampires. However, I think this can best be addressed without disrupting operations more than necessary. And I have a proposal to make. We take out Marla as chief administrator, and replace her with someone we can shape to suit us."

"You have someone in mind, I presume?" Bergman asked. "Perhaps we should each put forward a candidate for the job."

"Do you have someone in mind?"

"Well, not as such, but—"

"Then perhaps we should hear out what Kostan has to say," Philip interjected. "If you disagree, there is time to propose alternatives later." He shifted his gaze to Josef. "So who are you suggesting, then?"

Josef gestured. "Sam Logan."

The freshie was thunderstruck. He knew Josef had intended to find him a position here, but he'd had no idea of this. Marla huffed out a breath of surprise and dismay. The other vampires were muttering, as well.

"This baby?" Michel duBois asked incredulously. "How is this feasible?"

Philip Lewis looked thoughtful. "And is Logan your freshie now, Kostan? I thought he belonged to our sister, Melissa Fairbright."

Sam looked down at his feet, embarrassed, waiting to hear what Josef would say.

"Let's just say, there's been a change in his contract," Josef replied. "And who better to change this place, than someone who knows it well?"

"That's all fine, Josef, but there's a lot left in the air," Slade commented.

"If you want to sit here for hours working out details, Slade, I'd be more than happy to accommodate you," Josef returned. "But first I think I'd like to hear what Sam has to say."

Sam looked Josef directly in the eye. "I have a choice, Sir?"

Josef's lips twitched. "Sam, haven't you learned with me there are always choices?" He paused. "So, what do you think?"

"I think…that I would need your help, Sir. Your advice." Sam bit his lip. "It's true that I'm not experienced."

The vampire smiled at him, and Sam wondered how it was Josef managed to make him feel they were the only two in the room. "You have that, Sam." Josef shrugged and looked around the room. "In my years, I've found experience is gained, whether you wish it or not." He turned his attention back to the freshie. "Anything you want to add?"

Sam nodded and drew a shaky breath. "The night they dragged me out of here, I'd gladly have burned this place to the ground and never looked back. But since then, I've had a little time to think, and I've come to some different conclusions. I do think this place does—has done—a lot of good." He paused and looked around at the Board members, then returned his gaze to Josef. "If you care about us—at all—it's a necessary place. And it does a good job of helping our bodies. But it's turned into a prison. I know you gentlemen are conservative. I know you hold to your traditions, and I don't blame you. Maybe when this place started, the humans—they might have been more used to the isolation. I don't know. But I do know that we're not. Not now. We need more communication, in and out. If the freshies here are so treasured, we need to have it okay for their vamps to visit them, see how they're doing. Who knows, this might become a spot where vamps could come as well, vacation without having to hide what they are so much. I—I don't have the experience to handle the day-to-day operations here. But I think with help I can make this place what it was always intended to be."

He fell silent, and the room was in stillness for a moment. Josef was measuring the reactions of the others to this, when Slade spoke up.

"Well, the boy does have fire, I'll give him that." He paused, gauging their attention. "Maybe I have an idea about some onsite help for him. He can't be running to you every night, Kostan." Slade looked at Josef, who gave him a slight nod. "Perhaps that day-to-day operations experience could come from my girl, there?" He gestured toward Marla.

"I don't like it. A clean break would be better. And this one has proven she is not fit," Michel said. "Are we each to put in a puppet of our own, then?"

Philip Lewis steepled his fingers, regarding everyone thoughtfully. "Gentlemen," he said, his refined tones carefully neutral, "it's a departure, to be sure, but on the other hand, with a bit closer control, I think the proposed changes are sound. And these decisions need not be permanent. Perhaps we can give it a year's trial?"

Bergman nodded. "That seems reasonable. Perhaps we should authorize funds for several freezer suites? I've never liked the idea of my girls coming here and being out of my sight for so long."

Josef waved a hand. "We can save the details for later. For now, it seems agreed to move forward with the changes." He stood. "Gentlemen, thank you for attending."

As the meeting broke up, Slade caught Marla's arm, and led her out of the room. "This wasn't easy, darlin', but I'm counting on you not to screw up."

Marla put her hand up once more to the marks on her neck. "You protected me," she whispered. "I won't let you down."

Slade shook his head with a wry smile. "You're not going to get the chance, sweetheart. I'll be here watching."

Josef, coming from a brief conference with Sam, clapped Slade on the shoulder. "Good to see you, horsethief."

"Bandit." He paused. "That went well."

The ancient vampire smiled. "This time, yes. We'll see how it goes."

"Are you sticking around?"

"Not long. I have business to attend to, then I'm headed back to civilization."

Slade nodded, and slung an arm around Marla. "I believe my first step is a tour of the place. Looks like I need to pick out a suite to remodel."

"Not a bad idea." He paused. "Marla, I'll be in close contact with Sam, so don't even think about sabotaging him."

She gulped. "I can't imagine that would be healthy, Josef."

He chucked her lightly under the chin. "Smart girl." And nodding once more to Slade, he walked away, whistling to himself.

Josef liked the way his footsteps rang on the red Saltillo tiles of the hallway. He was more used to moving silently, cat-like, on carpet, but today his mood was good. Sam would be well-placed here, and he could drop in from time to time, keep things sorted the way he wanted. He took a deep sniff, searching out a particular scent, and turned to open a door off the hallway.

"Gasol. We're going to be leaving in…half an hour. Do we need another seat for the trip to the airport? Or not? And I assume there would be baggage."

Guillermo looked up from his study of Carmencita's hand, the one still held in his. He was stunned at the endless fascination he had found in something so mundane as a woman's hand, at the hypnotic quality of her voice. Maybe it was the life pulsing through her, the warmth he had missed for so long. They'd talked about a lot of things, this past hour or so. He had no idea where the time had gone. Yet he'd never really asked the question, if she was willing to come back to L.A. with him. He wasn't sure what he'd do with her, if she said yes. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd know what to do with her if she said no, either. He couldn't just cut her loose…there were stipulations in the contract about that. He found, though, that he was hoping she was curious enough to take a chance. He hadn't felt such a stirring of enthusiasm in years.

He looked into her face, raising his eyebrows in a question. Without speaking, she bit her lower lip, dropping her eyes to his hand, gently enfolding hers. She nodded.

Josef quirked a smile. "Looks like that's settled then." He leaned back out into the hallway, looking to see if anyone was about. "Perfect," he said, and called out to the one human in sight, with a peremptory snap of his fingers. "Marla, I need you to help Carmencita get packed. Now." He didn't need to wait to see if she jumped.

&&

Lucky pulled her knees up tighter against her chest, trying to curl into as small a ball as she could. She'd feared from the beginning that coming here would drive a wedge between her and the life she'd had, the relationship she'd built with Josef. She'd always known it would end; freshies had a pretty short shelf life. But she'd felt so close to him, so valued, that to be ignored the way he had done…had he casually slashed at her with a knife, it could not have hurt worse. She'd never known him to fail so in courtesy. Even if he was enthralled at the sight of Carmencita, he could have spared a few seconds to greet her, to acknowledge her presence. A nod, a smile. She told herself with a sob, that would have been enough.

There were voices in the hallway, footsteps on the tile floor outside her room, but she paid no attention. When the knock sounded, she ignored it.

Josef knocked again. "Lucky?" No answer. "Lucky," he said mildly, "let me in."

She wanted to scream at him to just go away, but the habit of obedience to his voice was simply too strong. She rose and shuffled to the door, turning away even as it swung open.

Josef stood in the doorway, one hand in his trouser pocket, the unbuttoned jacket swept back carelessly. "Not a very cordial greeting, doll," he commented, his head tilted down, looking up from under his brows. She was not looking to see the warmth in his whiskey brown eyes.

He was surprised and pleased when she whirled around and threw herself toward him. He opened his arms to welcome her. "Now, this is more like it."

The first thud of her fists against his chest caught him off guard, and the subsequent furious flurry of blows, delivered with a soundtrack of broken phrases and sobs, rocked him back on his heels. Instinctively, he put his arms around her, not to stop her, but to comfort her with his embrace. It amused him, that she could be so passionate in her anger. He'd never seen that before.

She tried to push away, the tears streaming, but he kept her captive.

"Lucky, Lucky," he said, "what is it that I've done?"

The freshie took a deep gulp of air. "Carmencita. I don't care that she's one of yours now, Josef," she gasped. "But you didn't even look at me!"

"Carmencita? This is about Carmencita? She's contracted to my friend Guillermo."

Lucky looked up at him, her mouth falling open. "You mean….you let me think….you BASTARD!" She knew that hitting him had no effect, that she couldn't harm him with her assault, but it made her feel better. Even when he pulled her closer, she struck at him several times more, struggling against his grasp. His impish smile never faltered, and the scent of her anger was a new perfume to him, the rapid pound of her heart covering anything she had to say.

Finally, as he had known she would, she wound down and collapsed against his chest. He reached carefully around her and pulled out his pocket square, blotting the tears from her cheeks. "You got that all out of your system, sweetheart?"

"I don't know." Her voice was still breathy, distressed. "Josef, that was cruel. That was unnecessary and cruel."

"I did come here to tell you something, if you're interested."

Lucky sniffed, leaning against his chest. "What?"

Josef smiled down at her. "Pack your bags, doll. I think it's time you came home."


End file.
